The Ruination Imperatives
by AlbertG
Summary: Star Trek/ Galactica Xover-Book II: Version 2.0 (re-edited, corrections made and tiny surprises here and there). The Alpha quadrant/Cylon war reaches a turning point!
1. Prelude

NOTICE: THIS STORY MAY BE DISTRIBUTED FREE OF CHARGE BUT MUST NOT BE SOLD OR EXCHANGED FOR FINANCIAL RETURN IN ANY FORM.  
  
---------------------COPYRIGHT/DISCLAIMER NOTICE-----------  
  
The stories, "Evolutions" and "Evolutions: Gleanings Past and Future" by Albert Green and using characters created by author Louis Miller, are a figments of this author's imagination. All Characters portrayed in this story, are fictional and do not reflect actual people, either living or deceased.  
  
"Star Trek", "Star Trek: The Next Generation", "Star Trek: Deep Space Nine", "Star Trek: Voyager", and "Star Trek: First Contact", and all related Star Trek related material, it's characters and certain technological devices and/or references to such, from the television shows and movies, may be or are registered trademarks of, and may be or are copyrighted by Paramount Studios and whatever Corporation it may or may not be owned by.  
  
"Battlestar Galactica", it's characters, and certain technological devices and/or references to such, from the television show, past present of near future, may be or are registered trademarks of, and may be or are copyrighted by the Universal Studios Corporation and any new owners in the future.  
  
Neither Studio is responsible for the content of this story.  
  
THIS STATEMENT MUST ACCOMPANY THE STORY 'EVOLUTIONS.' IF DISTRIBUTED. THIS STORY IS FREE OF CHARGE AND MAY NOT BE SOLD OR EXCHANGED FOR FINANCIAL RETURN IN ANY FORM. THIS DEDICATION MUST ACCOMPANY ANY DISTRUBUTION OF THIS STORY.  
  
The Ruination Imperatives Version 2.0

By Albert Green Jr.

Contact: g3607273@yahoo.com and g3607273@uic.edu

Summary: The Colonial-Federation combine lock horns with a vastly upgraded Cylon Empire whose intent is to eliminate the life forms known as man and anything else that gets in their way.

Dedication

This is my second installment of this story. The first is called 'Evolutions' and its addendum called 'Evolutions: Gleanings past and future'. This second short story served originally to be considered as a 'side story' not initially designed to be as integrated as it turned out to be.  It contains some very import elements essential to my stories both before and after.  If you can, I strongly suggest that you read it first before beginning this story.  Again, Mr. Louis Miller's story involving the _Khe Sahn_ and its crew fit so well with my ideas that I begged him to let me use a few of his characters, which he graciously consented.  Thank you, thank you, and thank you again.  If you wish, I would like for you to contact me with comments, critiques, etc.  My typing is getting a touch better and my editing sucks less now.  Thank God for the PC. 

Albert Green Jr.

Synopsis: The Battlestar _Galactica_ and _Pegasus_, along with their charges, the remnants of the twelve Colonies have made it to the Alpha quadrant but in the process they have brought their old enemies with them.  But they're not the same as they were.  Now, vastly improved Cylons are locked in blood feud with the Romulan Empire and are preparing to destroy any vestige of human and humanoid life in the Alpha quadrant.  The Federation still recovering from the Dominion War had no intentions of getting involved in another one.  But they don't have a choice, not if they want to survive.  Those who were involved in this war simply assumed it would be a war for the survival of the Colonials, the Federation and its allies.

They were wrong.

Historical Events in the Colonial-Federation Universe

**September 17, 1978**: The Colonial Peace Conference culminating with the signing of the non-aggression treaty with the Cylon Empire results in the destruction of the Colonial worlds and its surrounding colonies.  Only the Battlestar _Galactica_ is known at this time to have survived.  It and some two hundred twenty civilian ships make it out of trap.  Other Colonials hear the call but are unable to reach the warship in time and strike out on their own.  Only the _Galactica _contingent survives after a two-year running battle.  It is the beginning of a series of engagements by the Colonials as they evade constant attempts by the Cylon Empire to exterminate them.  

          **Earth- September 17, 1978**- President Carter announces the Camp David Peace Conference Peace Accords between Egypt and Israel.  Nuclear war does not break out in the Middle East. 

          **August 1997**- (actual time due to temporal distortion of the Tunnel Shifting drive used in the search for Kobol.  Nineteen years relative temporal distortion passes, although only seven months seem to have actually passed for the Colonials). The _Galactica _detects, engages and destroys a Cylon Basestar lying in wait for them.

**January 1998**- the Colonial discovery of Supernova remnants asteroid field in which they take refuge in for two years. 

**March 1998**- the Colonials began building the warship Kinia. The refit and building of the Colonial refugee ships and the _Galactica_ also begins.

**April 2001**- the discovery of the Aeriana jewels. The warship _Kinia_ is almost completed. Testing is due to begin.

The Aeriana weapons disaster occurs.

**May 2001**- Pleasure is discovered.

**July 2001**- The Pleasure wars begin.

**August 2001**- The _Kinia_ is hijacked with Colonel Tigh onboard.

**October 2376**- The _Kinia_, exhausting the fuel of its Tunnel-shift drive units, arrives in the Delta quadrant, with the help of Amanda Rogers of Q, and is rescued by the newly formed Alliance Star Corps. 

**November 2376**- after twenty-two years relative travel time for the Colonials: actual elapsed time three hundred seventy-four years temporal distortion. The Colonials reaches the edge of Romulan space in the Alpha quadrant.   A Cylon imperial Hunter-Killer explores a deserted region of T'kon space. The damaged T'kon automated station 'repair' the Cylon centurions, significantly upgrading them and the H-K warship. Approximately a month later, Baltar's Basestar fleet arrives responding to the confirmation call of the altered Cylons. They are overwhelmed by these new Cylons, altered and upgraded.  

Baltar is killed and Lucifer convinces the majority of the Cylon Warships to rendezvous with him for a strike in the Alpha quadrant and the so-called thirteenth colony called Earth. The Cylon Star base constructions begins, using T'kon replication technology, located in the Katasi star system. All earlier grade Cylons are converted as they enter into range.

**April 2377**- The Cylon Romulan blood feud begins.

**May 2377**-The Colonial fleet is attacked by an upgraded Cylon_ Hellion_-class Basestar. The_ Pegasus _is mortally wounded. The USS _Okada_ and USS _Khe Sahn_ along with the Colonial fleet are attacked. The _Hellion_ is repelled by Federation and Klingon forces making its retreats back into the Romulan neutral zone. 

The USS _Voyager_ returns from the alpha quadrant.

The Colonials are given sanctuary by both the Klingon and Federation Governments.

**August 2377**- The Ruination Protocols are effected by Count Iblis.

**September 2377**- a state of war is declared between the Klingon and Federation governments against the Cylon Empire. 

**November 2377**- The Cylon Empire broker a deal with the Borg.

**_                            The Ruination Imperatives:  _**

Book II of the Ruinations War Version 2.0 

Original date: Feb. 2002

PROLOGUE A fast note:  As most people who know this story and have read it before- This will tie into 'A Universe of Change', as well as the 'V'Ger discovery' arc, directly.  This story is re-edited and contains ton of corrections and a few 'tiny' additions that will give a hint of what is to come, including a touch on 'Nemesis'  (which I am proud to say has a few elements that match my story.)   The temporal war is not mentioned much here, but it is touched on and will slam home on both upcoming stories in Nov. of 2003 and the 3rd one which I am holding for as a surprise.   For you new people-if any-I say 'enjoy and critique accordingly.   One more thing… Anika (Seven of nine) IS MARRIED TO CHAKOTAY and her name has been changed accordingly.    AlbertG 

Q, son of Q, materialized within the very heart of the Katasi nebula next to his father. The deadly, fast moving, super-heated, high-energy plasma vortices that would cook unprotected flesh in an instant meant nothing to either of them.  In many ways the two entities were closer in nature to those rampaging energies than to any mere flesh. The blasting solar winds, traveling at speeds up to eighteen thousand miles per hour and devastatingly beautiful ultraviolet radiation swirled around the two of them, highlighting their true images for any one who would dare to look. 

          They were power personified and right now one of them was very, very angry. 

          "Iblis is indeed a maddened animal to try to pull off something like this," Q snapped at no one in particular. To the ordinary mortal he seemed to be talking to his son or perhaps himself.  But in truth, Q was in direct communication with the members of Q continuum. 

          "I should have terminated him when I had the chance…No, I don't want another extra-dimensional war, but this will be almost as bad…No, I have thought of something but it may not work…Yes, Picard, Adama, and Janeway…They can protect themselves, they always do…The Cylons will not be allowed get to the Machine Consignment Intelligum…The Federation is mature enough to understand that they are not ready to initiate first contact with the Intelligum…The Borg will not be allowed to get their clutches on the children.  Janeway has been apprised of the danger…I have just the sort of idea to, as the humans say, muck up his plans…I understand the implications." 

          A moment later he turned his attention towards his son. 

          "There," he said jovially. "You see. Everything will turn out fine."

His son looked dubious.  "This looks bad."

          Actually, it was a lot worse than his son could imagine at his age, Q surmised. However, Iblis in his arrogance set off a series of events that even he failed to anticipate. Activation of the 'ruination protocols' in this part of the galaxy, in the Cylons now enhanced with T'kon technology, was the worse thing he could have done.  Not only was the potential for mass annihilation possible, even probable, but also this war was destined to determine the fate of the galaxy, and more. 

          "Look, they've started," Q's son, whispered.

          Q had already noticed the launching of four _Extreme_-class Basestars along with seven of the _Hellions_, on a bearing that would take them directly to the Romulan neutral zone. These were dark times coming. 

          "They're making them faster now.  A long time ago," he mused, "I warned Picard about the dangers in this universe, but even I didn't expect one of those dangers would be the Cylons.  Goes to show you, we can learn something every day."

          "But we know everything already," his son retorted. "We're Q."

          "Do you know what I'm about to say next?"

          "No," the young Q admitted.

"I didn't think so," his father smirked.

          "I knew you were going to say that."

Q laughed smartly, somewhat proudly at his son's comeback, which was getting better with each passing day.

          "Putting our amusing little repartee aside for the moment, I want you to always remember that you have a manifest destiny as a Q to uphold, protect and maintain the balance in the universe.  Iblis has upset that balance, and we, I, have to address this."  It was a duty that the Q had been somewhat laced in for the last few millennia and this was the result.  It was time for the Q to get back to work. 

Young Q met the entity that called himself Iblis some months ago and was duly intimidated by the creature.  True, he wasn't as powerful as a Q, however his seductive nature had caused young Q to be on guard as he had never been before.  Even young Trelane had almost been pulled into the black abyss of Iblis' soul.  If it hadn't been for Amanda's powerful influence on Trelane, he would have become one of Iblis multitude of followers.  Trelane had explained Iblis incredible affect on him some time ago but Q never fully understood how powerful his influence could be. 

Still-

          "The lower life forms should deal with this themselves.  Whatever happens, happens," he said coldly. "With the exception of Janeway and her people of course," he hastened to add.  "If the Cylons are stronger, maybe they should take over-survival of the fittest.  It happened before and it will happen again.  You taught me this yourself, Dad."

          "Tsk, tsk," his father chided.  "Where did you get such a callused attitude?  If it were just the Cylons and the Alpha quadrant then I would never interfere."

          "Father," he continued. "If ants have a war between themselves, why should I care about it?  They are nothing.  If I step on them, it means nothing to me."

          "I used to feel the same way," his father answered some seconds later.  "But I've come to realize that these lower life forms have value.  Well," he corrected, "some value.  We have to start doing the job that the Q are supposed to have been doing for so long now.  Iblis actions have convinced me of this.  In a few thousand years, I'm sure you'll come to understand this."

          "Then we should remove Iblis so that we can clear this mess up."  His son's understanding of the situation was simple and to the point. 

          It was a kid's point of view, of course.  Nothing was ever black and white.  "We can't," his father responded half-heartedly.  "The rules must be obeyed.  He hasn't broken them, neither will I.  Besides it's far too late.  The genie of information is out of the bottle, so to speak."

          "The Q have so much power and we are so limited," his son mused as he materialized inside the massive Cylon Star base, then taking the shape of a Cylon Gold centurion in order to blend in.  "I _hate_ being limited, father."

          "So do I," agreed his father, appearing as an IL series Cylon, a moment later. "The stakes are way too high.  But for now, we watch.  And learn."

          They were surrounded now by hundreds of thousands of small five-foot drones scurrying about the mega-complex, completely oblivious to their presence. Many were operating and making final adjustments to the vast Cylon warships and weaponry that couldn't be trusted to replication technology.  Two high-ranking ILs and one Gold Leader brushed passed the two intruders without a second thought.

"I see Yuall has returned home from his little trip successfully," Q whispered. There was no need to whisper. The Cylons couldn't detect them, but he just felt the need to keep in character.

          "I'm half surprised the Borg didn't blow him and his ship to bits," his son whispered back. 

"It's a shame that they can't be assimilated like everybody else.  Another little gift from Iblis," young Q mumbled.

"I guess the deal they offered was too good to pass up, which punctuates my point. They can't be allowed to obtain V'Ger technology.  They'll truly become pains in the neck." 

          "I hope Kathryn and Picard can figure out what to do fast.  If not, then the Federation will have about what?  Six months of life left to them?"

"Never underestimate what those irritating bi-pedal organisms can do, son.  After all, look at Kate and Jean Luc and even Adama's tenaciousness."

His son nodded thoughtfully.

Having seen what they needed to see, both Q's faded away before Iblis detected them.


	2. Never Assume Anything

_     CHAPTER ONE_                              NEVER ASSUME ANYTHING 

**THE MARIPOSA SYSTEM**:

The Klingon battle cruiser _T'Hatru_ stood two kilicams distant facing the bridge of the Battlestar _Galactica_.  Parked next to them were two _Defiant_-class ships, part of the ever growing fleet of starships preparing to embark to the Neutral zone. 

          Onboard the _Galactica_ six Klingon warriors stood almost dumbfounded and more than a touched amused at the diminutive figure standing defiantly in their path blocking access to the bridge.  To the Klingons that had come to the _Galactica_ for the last few weeks, the woman now standing in their way had become something of a daily ritual.  The Klingons would demand to speak to Commander Apollo, and Celestse, all five foot one of her, would glare at them and demand that they wait where they were.  The woman had five brothers who constantly tried to run her life and they utterly failed.  To her, these Klingons weren't any different than them, except maybe a little cuter.

          "You will have to wait," she snarled, facing their Captain squarely.  "Don't make me shoot you."

          That comment produced the usual amused laughter.  Captain Kagth considered her laser pistol a toy that at the most would produce slight sunburn if it made it past his armored vest.  But she was brave for a human and he respected that.  In his eyes Celestse was worthy and many of the Klingons with him would want her as a life-mate; she'd need the protection.  One day he'd give her a real weapon.  He wondered idly if she would be able to lift it.

          As per usual, Apollo ushered them in immediately.  Federation Captains Tikah, a Bolian male, and Wollensky were also present. Both the Colonial military leadership, consisting of Captains Brie and Rigel, along with Senior Flight Commander Tolen, a few others, and the Klingons took their assigned seats while Celestse remained as security. 

          Captain Kagth had requested her specifically because he suspected, and rightly so, that the males of his entourage would maintain some semblance of control.  After all, it would be the height of dishonor to embarrass oneself in front of one's Captain, the worthy female and the two female Colonial Captains.  

          "We come to make challenge today," Kagth begin in formal ritual. "Twice before you have defeated us and we demand restitution," he growled.

          "I accept your challenge," Apollo snapped back as harshly as he could.  Then he smiled as all three groups relaxed and began preparations for today's war games.  

This would be last practice session between the Colonials, Federation and Klingon contingents protecting the Mariposa system. 

          Apollo had been appalled by his father's, Boxey's and Starbuck's combined reports on _Deep Space Twenty-three_ almost two months past.  Federation and Klingon ships, although possessing superior firepower against a Cylon _Hellion_-class Basestar and its fighters, took a beating while attempting to defend the Space station.  Colonial pilot Joliet, also present during the fight, correctly deduced that there were weaknesses in close quarters fighting between the larger warships versus the smaller highly maneuverable Cylon fighters and H-Ks.  The _Defiant_-class and Bird-of-preys, as well as the modified_ Viper _and _Cobras_- had fared much better against that suicide assault.  The Federation military understood the implications immediately. 

          The Klingons on the other hand, acted like stereotypical Klingons.  Apollo ears still rang from that initial conversation.  Now he was never a loud man but in the presence of these people he learned the techniques real fast.

          "What do you mean we need more experience fighting these robots!" Kagth screamed that first meeting.  It had been a statement, not a question.  "What gives you the right to talk to us-your allies- in such a dishonorable manner?"  Wars had been started for less.

          Then the Klingon warrior actually pulled a knife on him!  From everything he'd learned about Klingons he'd expected something like this, still it came as somewhat of a shock.

          At first Apollo and his people tried to clam everyone down, somehow lower the tension.  It didn't work at all. The Klingons simply got louder and more abrasive.  So he quickly reversed his tactics.

          "I have seen your fighting skills," the Colonial yelled. "You couldn't outfight a first year cadet!"

          "What?" Kagth snapped, his eyes dangerous. Was this human insane?

          "You heard me," Apollo responded not backing off a metron.  "I've been reviewing the Dominion battles between you and the Jem'Hadar warships.  You are warriors to your soul-that much is clear.  But the Jem'Hadar constantly made suicide runs destroying many of the Fed and Klingon ships in the process.  That's exactly what the Cylons will do."

          The Klingon warrior laughed. 

          "And what of your battles?  You lost an entire people to these robots because of some stupid idea of an unarmed peace conference.   And we had to help you out of your last defeat to snatch victory from their jaws."

"Exactly, correct," Apollo countered, knocking Kagth off balance for a moment.  "We were fools to let that happen.  But we did, and I don't want to repeat history here in the Alpha quadrant. You saw what happened at _Deep Space twenty-three_," he said as the Captain quieted for a second.  "I want to test our _Vipers_ against your Warrior birds to see how weak your ships are and how stronger our ships could be working together.  I challenge two of your Bird-of-preys vessels against four of our modified _Viper_ _Twos_.  I say your ships can't handle close quarters combat without getting chewed to pieces." 

          Then he plunged in his own metaphorical knife.  "I also believe that you can't work with our ships as a team unit either."

          Pleasantly enraged, the Klingon Captain took up the challenge- 

-And in the ensuing war games got promptly slaughtered.  

The _Viper_ pilots, used to fighting in close quarters, scored approximately five times the number of simulated hits against the Bird-of-preys.  The Federation_ Defiant _class starships fared a little better as the two ships fought against the _Vipers_ as a unit instead of with the stolid independence of the Klingons.

          The same thing happened in the holodeck simulation programs-set just under lethal levels as per requested by over zealous Command staff-in which Klingons rushed to do battle with Cylon holograms.  Mobs of warriors rushed in using hand disrupters and the traditional bat'leths only to suffer broken bones and abject humiliation.  The Cylon upgrades were known to be resistant to all but the heaviest weaponry, however, that little fact seemed to have been ignored just before the rout began.  Federation and Colonial soldiers nearly choked with laughter at the highly embarrassed warriors trying the exit the holodeck with some measure of decorum. 

The Colonial warriors managed to wipe out almost fifty percent of their targets before being overwhelmed. 

Then the Federation elite took their turns…

"What is wrong with these people?" Captain Brie, a blond with gray streaks looked at the results shaking her head once more.  "Who trained these warriors?" 

          She gave both Federation Captains a very disapproving stare. 

          "Why is it that your warriors feel the need to stop while standing in the middle of a hallway in order to get a shot off?  Does the concept of duck and cover mean anything to you?  Twisting your body to the side to present a smaller target while standing in one spot is ludicrous." 

"They make absolutely wonderful targets," Tolen added. "And why are they wearing so much red?  These Cylons don't miss and you're giving them something bright red, in the open and standing still, to shoot at.  That is totally idiotic."

          Both Federation Captains thoroughly embarrassed seemed to shrink a little.

          "It is a problem with our training that need to be corrected," Tikah stammered. "Ground combat isn't as common now.  It appears that there has been too much stressing on achieving the clear shot, assuming that the body armor would protect the shooter from serious injury."

          "Your techniques need readjusting," Rigel snapped. 

          She looked at both Klingon and Fed Commanders. 

          "Let's see; the Klingons NEED DRILL SERGEANTS AND LOTS OF THEM. The Federation needs serious ground pounding training with specialties on HOW NOT TO MAKE THE PERFECT TARGETS.  The Colonials need to UNDERSTAND WHAT BODY ARMOR MEANS…" 

          The report for all concerned wouldn't be pretty.

          The points had been made. The Klingons angered, but fully aware of the problems, responded by getting everybody drunk on blood wine and having an excellent time watching scores of Colonial warriors throwing up throughout the night…

The _USS Voyager_, escorted by the two surviving Colonial _Cobras _of what was being called 'the battle for _DS Twenty-three'_, began their trek from _Deep Space twenty-three_ to the forth planet of the Mariposa system.  At warp two, the trip would take about seven hours.  Onboard, The Colonial-Mariposa diplomatic Corps that included President Adama, Sires Uri and Forsen, met in the dining hall, along with passenger Thomas William Riker, for another conversation with Captain Kathryn Janeway. 

          The Doctor, a sentient hologram, and resident physician on _Voyager_, was deep in conversation with a somewhat bemused President.  To Adama, the Doctor was just another breakthrough in a series of breakthroughs and revelations since arriving in the Alpha quadrant.

"Couldn't you have talked to the Cylons, make them understand that mutual cooperation was in the best interest to all concerned? Has anyone tried to tried to reason with them?"

          Adama had gone through this conversation before- many times since meeting the Federation. 

          "No, Doctor," he patiently stated, again. 

          His answer was automated; his mind wasn't fully into this conversation.  He wanted to be home with his wife Siress Tinia.  He needed that woman near him and this extended trip only drove the point home to him.  He never wanted to leave her again. There comes a time, he thought, that family and what little understanding he had of God was the only true happiness. This war benefited no one, but it did give him a glimpse of the forces that, for a lack of a better concept, he called good and evil. 

          "The Cylons purpose was to destroy us all. Unlike you, they have no morals to guide them. They simply intend to fulfill their mission."

          "They sound like Borg drones," the Doctor responded. "Seven and I've been studying the notes on the captured Centurion and by all accounts it seems that it is a very intelligent cybernetic organism.  It has shown no hostility since being captured."

"Just because it has shown no hostility doesn't mean it won't, Doctor," Seven of Nine, now calling herself Anika Hansen-Chakotay, said tartly. "Species Two-two-four-one, has evolved from a primitive 'robot' to something equivalent to Commander Data.  But the essential programming has not changed.  It would be foolish to underestimate them.  Talking to them would be like talking to the Borg.  Conversations would be futile."

          "But, it is possible that these Cylons could exceed their programming as I have," he countered.

          "Has it ever occurred to you that they already have, Doctor?" Adama smiled at the surprised hologram.  By the look given by the hologram, obviously it hadn't.  "They may now be more resolved than ever to complete their mission.  Just because something becomes more complex doesn't mean it gets better.  It usually means that the Cylons have found a more efficient way to bring about our destruction."

          The Doctor was about to say something when he was cut off Janeway.

          "We are in a state of war with them," his Captain said, speaking directly to him.  "Their lack of negotiations and their overall intent was made very clear.  They're using force to justify their ends and I don't intend on being on the receiving end of their manipulations like we were in the Delta Quadrant.  If I've learned one thing on our journey home it is this: friends and family are what matters when the going is rough.  When I needed help, my crew, my family was there even when I didn't know I needed help.  We, the Federation, and the Colonial Republic as some are calling it, the Klingons and everybody else, even the Romulans," Janeway added after a moment's thought, "are stronger as a group than we are separately.  If we don't work together, then there are those who will take what we have away from us."

"Please, don't get me wrong," she continued. "Starfleet exists primarily as an organization for exploration but we're entering new territories and a new era meaning that we are encountering new threats who'd destroy us if they could.  I have learned that sometimes we may have to take a step or two back in order to go forward.  But we will go forward.  Everything I've-we've experience has shown that.  I would prefer that we didn't have to resolve our differences with weapons but we don't have a choice here.  We will have to defeat them utterly if we are to survive."

          "Captain, isn't that harsh?" asked the Doctor, surprised at her coldness towards this new enemy.

"No, not in this case." she rose from her seat and looked out at the streaming, warp-distorted stars.  _Maybe I know something that you don't_ she thought.

**GALOR FOUR-DAYSTROM INSTITUTE ANNEX:**

****

Jeff Tady, Associate senior researcher at the Institute annex groaned once again, something that was fast becoming a common occurrence now days.  Once again, the captured silver-colored Cylon robot had skewered him in three-dimensional chess, but it had taken almost an hour for it to beat him, which was in itself most unusual.  Normally, even with computer support, the Cylon should have had no trouble beating him.  The game itself was unimportant, but it did served as an indicator of the machines incredible cognitive abilities. 

          Nicknamed 'Mono' by the staff because its monotone intonations, the robot had become somewhat of a celebrity over the last four months.  However over the last month, its functions had been slowly deteriorating.  It was a subtle change that caught the cybernetics engineering staff and Dr. Wilks, the _Galactica's_ foremost expert on Cylon structure and function, by surprise.  They couldn't afford to lose their only fully functional specimen, therefore Research Facility Commander Bruce Maddox assigned Jeff to personally access and deal with the problem.

          For months they had been attempting to break the Cylon programming codes with almost no success, partly because of the incredible complexity of what little they actually had of it-accumulated from the destroyed centurions reclaimed from the _Khe Sahn_- and partly because Mono wouldn't let anyone near enough to examine it.  It had been restrained under a level eleven force field but even then the danger was extreme.  Mono's regenerative abilities kept its built-in weaponry and auto defenses fully functional, so testing was kept to a minimum.  An effective jammer was placed just outside the cell in order to block the robots subspace transceiver from re-establishing contact with the rest of its kind.  The result was that the centurion was effectively isolated if not fully secured.  Since the Institute was a research facility specializing in robotics, security was severely modified for their visitor.  At first, everyone had agreed to the extra security, but recently certain people including Jeff, deemed it more of a hindrance rather than a necessity.

          Tady, a thin, sandy haired man in his thirties was the first to notice the degradation of certain motor functions in the captive.  When Dr. Wilks came on his weekly visit, he had pointed this out to him and Wilks confirmed his suspicions. 

          "It's as though he's running out of power," Wilks had commented to Tady.  The more data he analyzed the more logical it seemed.  "Evidently, the power source needs replacement."

          "Or a recharge," Tady added.

          "Or a recharge," he agreed. "All of these new improvements must take a lot more power that we anticipated," he mused.  "This may be a very important clue as to how long they function.  Power restrictions may be an answer to help defeat these things." 

          Not for the first time had the _Galactica_ scientist wished to rip out the still functional memory core to see what made it tick.

          Tady was somewhat saddened by this potential loss of what he considered a valuable piece of machinery.  The man had talked constantly to the centurion, endeavoring to establish some form of cooperative communication between the two.  For the first three weeks, Mono refused to speak preferring to slam its fist against the restraining force field.  It bathed the entire cell for days with high-level radiation from its built-in, neutron-based disrupters.  The annex had prepared, based on previous reports, for this type of assault.  The radiation had been contained but no one could get close enough to stop it and there was more than a little worry that Mono would damage itself.  The power drain from that attack must have been incredible, the scientists theorized. 

          The consensus was that since it was cut off from its kind, it needed something else to occupy its mind.  Someone thought to pipe a news feed broadcast into the cell.  Despite the initial skepticism, by some miracle it seemed to work.  After the third day, Tady recorded his first direct conversation with Mono.

          "Release me," it had said.  Its eye froze for a second as though trying to see into his soul.

          "No. We can't do that," he had responded. 

          For a moment, he was transfixed by that blood-red cyclopean eye.  It focused on him for a moment, then eye sensor resumed its normal back and forth scanning movement. 

          "What is you designation?" he asked, trying to recover from the almost hypnotic movements of the scanning optic.

          The Cylon warrior gave off a string of numbers far too long to for Jeff to remember.  He was more than pleased at having this entire conversation recorded.  The data being collected would be of immeasurable value in he studies to come. 

          "I am called Jeff Tady."

          "I know who you are," the Cylon responded in its monotone drone.

          "With all the attempts at communication, I guess you do."

          It was the beginning of a long interesting relationship-

- A relationship that appeared to be rapidly coming to an end as Mono seem to slowly wind down, not unlike an ancient timepiece, Jeff thought. After the ninth day, only the revolving optic functioned and the staff was in a panic.  Security wouldn't allow them entry and their prized possession was about destroy itself.  From earlier conversations with Jeff, Mono had informed them that all Cylon program cores degrade if there was irreversible damage or if threatened with permanent power loss such as was happening now. 

          "We've got to examine Mono before the programming pathways degrade," he protested.  

The three Federation security guards simply looked at him with contempt.  _Go in there with that thing?  Are you out of your mind?_

          "Negative," the first security guard replied. The guard's orders were specific. 

          "But, soon it may be too late," the scientists had protested.

"I don't care," came the reply. The guard's orders were clear.

The Cylon centurion called Mono listened at the ensuing argument with what little power its auditory sensors had left.  For the last three sectars it had analyzed the randomly frequency rotation of the force shield that kept it prisoner even as it analyzed every personnel duty shift, every power fluctuation and every ship that landed near the annex.  In their need to communicate with it, the humans had divulged a wealth of information.  Of great interest was the information about the _Soong_-class androids.  The one called Data was a threat that would have to be dealt with, along with its Captain and the rest of these humanoid organics. 

          It would not permit the humans to have access to Cylon secrets.  However, it concluded that the only possibility of escape from the humans was self-destruction.  Earlier versions would destroy themselves without hesitation but the newer generation had discovered the iron logic of survival-when possible.  It chose permanent de-activation as a viable option for survival. 

          All systems began a shutdown over a period of several sectons.  Now was the calculated time for implementation.  Within five microns all power shut down remaining that way for thirty-five microns as the technical staff rushed in to salvage what they could under the watchful eyes of security.  As per programming the first sensor that activated was the optic.  Within three revolving scans, it locked on to everyone in the room. 

          Within two microns, its power was at full strength to the absolute horror of everyone in its scanning range. Moments later, with the exception of two scientists, everyone was dead or dying as the internal weaponry ripped into everything in sight.  One female scientist managed to get the force field operational.  The fully active Cylon powered up its disrupters and fired through the shield as though it wasn't there.  The long-term analysis of the frequency rotation indicated a repeating pattern every twenty-eight days.  Internal chronometers synch exactly with the result being that the force shield was rendered completely useless.

          Taking special attention to viciously kick Jeff's body out of its way while quickly stepping over the remaining bodies with indifference, it ran towards the control center killing everyone in sight. 

The few surviving personnel were shocked to see the speed that the Cylon was capable of despite its seemingly bulky nature.  Terrified, they ran, screaming for Security as the Cylon closed the re-enforced double doors behind them.  Free of the subspace jammer, it began transceiving every bit of information accumulated since its capture.  Activating the main computer system and easily bypassing several security command lockouts and overrides, it found and transmitted all available information on the Cylon's secondary objective. 

          "Subject Data's positronic unit cannot be compromised by standard protocols.  It should be terminated immediately as the opportunity arises.  Information concerning V'Ger structure, composition and extrapolated vectors being transmitted for further analysis.  This unit's conclusion is that Federation technology is unable to deconstruct Cylon prime and secondary programming.  Starfleet containment fields utilize variable-tertiary rotation frequency, corresponding to HUNT-tri mode architecture-"

          Seconds later it completed its task.  Now it was one last duty to perform.  "By the command," it said to no one in within hearing distance.  The Cylon destroyer's changed from the monotone voice to an exact copy of Jeff's voice.  "Associate senior researcher Jeff Tady authorizing emergency command overrides."

          "Voice verification confirmed," the computer said. 

          "Emergency release of all fusion safeties…" 

          The warrior proceeded to destroy the control room systems, computers, data storage, and environmental controls.  All accumulated data about itself was incinerated along with audio and visual records.  Then it waited.

          Two minutes later, four armored security guards carrying phaser rifles struck the Cylon warrior simultaneously. The robot ceased to exist a moment later.

T'ninz Calle, the Commander reached the computer console a moment later.  Checking the system, he shook his head in astonishment. 

"All the power safeties have been turned off," he screamed.  "The containment system is about to blow.  We have about two minutes!"

          "All eight safeties?  That's impossible!  There's no way-" the guard shut up instantly and began moving rapidly as the emergency alarms blared violently.

          Ninety-two lives and the remains of Lore, Data's counterpart, were lost as the facility turn itself into a smoldering ruin.

****


	3. Fence Dancing

**** **** **** **_           CHAPTER TWO_** **              FENCE DANCING**

On the planet Mariposa, Commander Cain was feeling fit enough to travel for the first time in months. The horrible burns and subsequent pain he suffered from, a result of the _Pegasus_ fire had disappeared through the wonders of Federation medicine.  And although Cassie, who was now his constant companion, wanted him to rest a little more, even she couldn't justify him being kept planet-bound.  When the man wanted to see the _Galactica _and then the _Pegasus_ refit-even as it was now undergoing its shakedown cruise-in that order, few people had the courage to say no to the still-living legend.  It was clear to everyone who saw him that he wanted to command again but to put it simply, he was too old now.  The _Pegasus_ belonged to his daughter Sheba now, nevertheless, he could provide some advice to her and he intended to do just that.  

A shuttle was waiting to take him to the _Galactica_ where she and her husband were.  Also he wanted to see some of the improvements including the updated weapons and propulsion systems that claimed to be able to take on an _Extreme_-class Basestar.  And he wanted to see the New _Viper Threes_, just coming online and the sensor array and…

The spaceport was small but growing. There was a well laid out area for the land-based military shuttles and fighters complete with heavy ground based weaponry designed to protect the entire region. 

When Cain first saw it he laughed in approval.  "I wished we had this on Caprica and the other colony worlds," he said to Cassie as he strapped himself into his couch. 

          "It wouldn't have made a difference if we weren't ready for them," Cassie responded bitterly.  Even after all those years past, the memories festered like an open wound.

          "What's past is past," he said.  "Speaking of which, have you seen your boyfriend?"

"Not since he got back from New Halana," she answered with indifference.  "But it doesn't matter. He's not part of my life now, you are."

          "You make a old man smile," he answered, flushing slightly.  "Besides, you deserve someone better than him, you truly do.  If he didn't realize how special you were after all these yahrens, if he couldn't commit to you, then he didn't deserve the woman he said he loved."

          At least five people had said exactly the same thing to her in the last two centons. 

          "That's the general consensus," came her answer.  The truth hurt.

          "Well Starbuck, you had your chance," Cain mused as the shuttle took off.  "Let's see what an old man can do," he whispered to Cassie.

          "Men," she whispered to the wind. 

The transport shuttle achieved orbit easily and began its vector towards the Battlestar _Galactica_ located almost a quarter light yahren out.  As they pulled close, Cain could see besides her, floating in the distance, at least three of those Klingon ships and one of those almost white looking Federation battle cruisers. 

_Good, he thought. __The more the merrier. _If those Cylon death machines tried to attack this system they'd be in the fight of their lives._ _

          "Cassie, do you know anything about the ship called _Voyager_?" he asked Cassie. "Have you seen it?  Is it really as small as I've heard?" 

          She could hear the contempt dripping in his voice and she was not pleased.     "It was one of their small ships that took on a modified _Hellion_ Basestar."

          "It lost," he stated, coldly.

          "It did better than the _Pegasus_," she retorted viciously.

Her response was hostile, far more so than he had expected.  Obviously he'd hit a sore point. 

          "Okay Cassie," he said startled by her defensive stance towards the Earth ship. "I didn't mean-"

The shuttle bounced once, then again more violently. The passengers felt rather than heard the slight tearing of a bulkhead near the back of the ship. The pilot was on the comms stating that they had an emergency.  From what Cain overheard, the ship had encountered some sort of energy field that reacted very badly to the shuttles engines.  The entire shuttle went dark as the pilot yelled for everyone to get into the evacuation pods. 

          Panicked for Cassie, Cain shoved her and another passenger into the second life pod. With four already inside he pressed the release-launch sequence and went for the first pod ignoring Cassie's screams which faded quickly as the pod door slammed shut.  His bones creaked and his muscles ached as he raced towards the other pod.

Onboard the _Galactica_, Apollo and his wife indeed the entire bridge crew were in a panic.  The shuttle was breaking up quickly and only one of the two escape pods had launched so far. Scanners had detected at least three more people inside the shuttle.  But the scans were breaking up as though something was interfering with them.  If that were true then the newly installed transporters might not be able to be used to save them.

          "Transporter room!  You have to do it now!" Sheba's screams echoed throughout the bridge.  "Hurry!"  She couldn't lose her father, not now!

          "We're transporting now!" Seconds later the transporter chief was shouting. "I got all three of them!" 

          For a few moments they could hear the transporter crew yelling joyfully, which ceased abruptly. 

          "Captain, uh, could you come down here?" His voice reeked to confusion and fear. 

"Oh my God! The transporter failed!" That was the only thing either of them could think of. 

          Sheba almost fainted in terror for her father.  Moments later they both entered the newly built transporter room and stopped absolutely stunned by what they saw.

          "I don't know what happened," the transporter officer said.  His mouth was open even though he could think of nothing to say.

          "Daddy?"

          Cain looked at himself, at them and then himself once again. 

          "Oh, frack.  I think I like these matter integrators," he murmured.  Loudly: "What happened?  What about the people in the escape pod?"

          "I have no idea," the transporter officer said.  After a moments checking: "the escape pod is okay.  But-I'm going to have to call Starfleet about this." 

          The officer was wide eyed.  Never in his imagination had he thought that something like this could have occurred.  The implications were incredible. 

Next to Cain were the pilot and co-pilot sitting on the transporter pads.  Both were about two yahrens old and fully aware of what had happened to them.  In his shock he realized that he was now about five years younger than his daughter.  He was a young man-well forty-ish anyway, again.  He was full of vigor and strength.  He felt powerful again.  He could fight again.  He hoped this was permanent.

          "I'm back," he whispered. "The old war daggit is back.  Won't Adama be surprised?  Won't Cassie be surprised! I'm younger than she is now!"

Q clapped his hands and then his son's back. 

          "Very good, my son, even though you cut it close."

           "I wanted it to feel real," he protested.  "They needed a sense of danger.  Cain likes dangerous situations!"

          Q examined Cain once again. The change was permanent.  The others could be restored since their patterns had been saved in the transporter buffers.  But Cain was another story.  He had been transported only once and that buffer pattern hadn't been stored. 

          "Let's see how Iblis handles this," he said to his son. "Time to go."

Both disappeared in a quiet flash. 

**USS _BOREALIS_: _AMBASSADOR_ CLASS**

**ON PATROL NEAR THE KLINGON BORDER:**

****

Captain Nashta got up from the Big Chair as he called it, walked across and gave the pre-occupied Ensign the signed reports.  The embarrassed woman blushed heavily, took the reports and exited the bridge.  He then went back to his seat.  The fact that Nashta, a Betazoid, was Captain was somewhat unique as the Betazoid home world was a matriarchal society, with the males usually not obtaining such a position of authority.  He was proud of his stature and he proud of his part in the Dominion War.  With his ship, he had helped liberate and rid his home world of the brutal and vicious Jem'Hadar shock-troopers that had enslaved his people for almost a year.  He felt that part of his success lay in the fact that much of his crew were themselves Betazoids, along with a smattering of Vulcans and intuitive humans.  Working together, they kept themselves and the ship alive when many others had been lost.  He considered himself aggressive and tough with a no nonsense attitude towards potential enemies.  Even after the war, his attitude hadn't changed, especially after he witnessed the carnage inflected by the Dominion dog-soldiers on his and various other worlds. 

          Now his vessel tracked a fairly large Klingon freighter convoy moving slowly towards its home, some three parsecs distant.  Even after almost a hundred years past, when the Klingons 'accidentally' blew up their moon Praxis, they needed vital supplies of exotic medicines, special equipment and containment systems for the new anti-matter generator systems orbiting their planets.

In the last two months, four of these newly formed convoys had been attacked by Cylon _Raiders_ fairly deep within Klingon and Federation territories. The Klingons were incensed and threatened to attack known Cylon outposts- even if they weren't yet prepared for a prolonged fight. 

The Klingons had several warships in close proximity, as did the Federation.  Even now though, the border would not be breeched unless there was an actual attack. The Klingons protected their own. 

          "Anything yet?" he asked Kilenna, the sensors officer, a touch of boredom evident in his voice.

"Yes, sir," came her answer, somewhat to the Captain's surprise.  "It's a small target.  Two Cylon H-Ks and three _Raiders_."

          "Only three?"  _Curious_.  "Are the Klingons aware of the target." 

Stupid question, he realized.

"Yes, sir. The lead Bird-of-prey is vectoring in. The second is tracking and beginning to follow its partner."

          Both warships sped up firing their disrupters as soon as they were in range. The Cylon ships split up immediately, all five attempting to swarm the first Klingon ship before it could cloak. 

          Its shields flared brightly as anti-photon disrupters attempted to rip them apart. The second Klingon fired and vaporized two of the smaller _Raiders_ in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure off of its sister ship. The H-Ks continued their attack on the first Bird-of-prey, slicing deeply into the starboard nacelle.  Crippled, the small ship moved off for repairs being chased by a remaining Raider, not relieving the pressure on the beleaguered ship for a moment. 

          Meanwhile the two heavier Cylon warships locked horns with the second Bird-of prey. 

          Two large Klingon battle cruisers materialized between their wounded partner and the raider, easily blasting both the _Raider_ and the two H-Ks into vapor. 

          "Oh, that was too easy," Nashta's second in command said. "That was a waste of good material."

          "_It seems like some Cylon big head messed up_," Kilenna thought to her Captain. 

          As a Betazoid it was so much easier to communicate naturally.  But a second later, she was stunned beyond comprehension. 

"Emergency alert!"

Nashta and the crew were just as shocked at the sight of two _Hellion_ class Basestars now de-cloaked, tearing into both the unprepared warships and the convoy using anti-matter missiles with complete abandonment.  Cylon fighters of various types spilled out with the intentions of butchering the few ships that survived the initial assault.  In moments it was clear that the bulk of the Cylon small ships were targeting the nearby Klingon colony of Kast'ka.  They were already going to warp and would be there within minutes.

          "Inform Starfleet that the Cylons have developed cloaking technology and we are engaging them at the Klingon border near Epsilon Tyran three," Nashta yelled as the red alert klaxon began to scream. "Let the Klingons know this situation!  Have them send what they have in the area now!"

          "Acknowledged…. The Klingons are aware of the circumstances. They'll be with us and the colony in three minutes."

The problem was that it would take longer than three minutes to reach the colony world.  But they'd take what they could get. 

          "Good. Signal the group, we're going in now! Shields to full!" 

          The _USS Borealis_ and three Nebula class starships slammed into the wall of Cylon death machines with long-range quantum torpedoes and phasers.  All four ships hit the first _Hellion_ damaging its shields and causing minor damage to its outer hull.  Both _Hellions _focused their heavy weapons on the fast moving starships, lashing out with combinations of missiles, torpedoes and shield destroying energy beams. 

          "The _Copernicus_ has been hit," someone said yelling over the battle din as Nashta was knocked out of his command chair.  On the view screen, the wounded ship was listing portside, with _Raiders_ and H-Ks rushed in, attempting to finish the job.

          "Let's do it!" that was an Earth phrase that he'd become accustomed to and rather liked, he thought irreverently. With the _Borealis's_ shields to full power Nashta's ship   went in, taking the withering fire, protecting the wounded Federation ship with everything it had, while the two remaining starships racked the closest _Hellion_ with sustained phaser strikes. 

          Three more Klingon warships entered the fray, throwing deadly energy blasts and some new type of plasma bolts against the enemy.  The effects were devastating.  Cylon shields might as well have been non-existent against this new weapon, which apparently to melt re-enforced armor like the preverbal earth butter on a heating element. 

          A section of the first _Hellion_ blew spectacularly. Klingon warships nipping violently at its heels hampered its attempts at retreat. The remaining enemy fighters and _Hellion _formed up to face this new threat.

          "One more to go," Nashta growled, even as he ordered his ship to fire on incoming H-Ks trying to blow holes in his ship. 

A second later the Starship _Copernicus_ blew apart as an arrant missile hit it amidships.

"How many survivors?"

          "Three escape pods released only." 

          Desperately Nashta ordered his ship to intercept the pods.  Cylons were known to target unarmed escape vehicles. 

A small combined fleet of almost one hundred H-Ks and _Raiders_ converged on the unprepared Klingon colony world, Kast'ka.  Originally a farming community, in the last fifteen years it had become more of a military base camp for thousands of soldiers embarking to distant points in the Empire.  Despite the relatively different dichotomies of the two groups, they got along fairly well.  No one complained.  The food was magnificent, the gagth exquisite. 

          The blood wine was rumored to be some of the best in the eastern portion of the Empire.  In fact that was one of the colony's specialties and the Klingon High Council expressed a great love for the people there, unusual to say the least.  To leave it defenseless would have been deemed insane.  Several disrupter batteries were placed in permanent orbit around the planet and two heavy cruisers were on station at all times, therefore the entire system was considered secure.

          The Cylon fleet was detected six minutes before it entered the star system. The two cruisers engaged the enemy attacking viciously and quickly before beginning their defensive retreat back towards the planet. 

          In their initial attack, four of the _Raiders_ had been destroyed and one H-K damaged. The counter-fire was devastating and within that brief contact both ships shields had been almost completely destroyed. The call had gone out and help would soon be arriving, so all they had to do was to hold.  Both ships retreated to the safety of the orbital batteries.  Planetary defense systems were armed and ready. 

The first wave of the larger H-Ks, each four times the size of a regular sized _Raider_ with T'kon modified defense shields to match, hit the orbital defenses. Two of the platforms succumbed almost immediately, but not before they destroyed almost a fifth of the attacking fighters. Both Klingon ships were obliterated within the first five minutes of the fight. There were no survivors and even if there had been, the Cylons would have made sure that there would have been no one left alive, as the imperative protocols demanded. The _Raiders_ concentrated on the land-based defenses. They were no match for those massive strike units but the shear number of fighters were able to inflict damage. M ore than forty percent of the ships were annihilated before the second of five land-based platforms were destroyed. 

On the planet's surface, Commander Korma was having the time of his life.  Like any good Klingon (or so he believed) he reveled in this fight his land based systems, in which he thought he'd never get to use, were damaging and destroying the enemy left and right.  His defenses were damaged but he was still in the fight and it was glorious. He was winning! 

Then the bottom fell out and he understood fear.

          He and a thousand others gasped as two large _Hellions_ de-cloaked and began firing their neutron disrupters onto the planet's surface. The energy weapons were designed more for destroy living tissue than causing actual physical damage.  Everything the beam touched died for kilometers around. The last thing Korma saw were several high-yield photon class missiles streaking towards the surface.  This exercise hadn't turned out the way he'd planned he thought before a blinding light engulfed everything.

The price tag was three hundred million souls.

THE KATASI STAR SYSTEM:

In the distance floated the remains of the Katasi home world.  All sentient life had been extinguished.  From the report given by the _USS Enterprise_ during their spy mission to that ill-fated system, the Federation understood what was happening, but resources were stretched and they were powerless to do anything about the genocide.  The dark-skinned, reptoid inhabitants of Katasi screamed and died under the merciless Cylon assaults, their technology being vastly inferior to the enemy's. The Cylon Empire had interests in the planet and the population was not part of the plan. As a form of terrorism, they hunted down every living being.  No one came to their aid and no one survived. 

The planet itself lost a significant portion of its mass as Cylon machinery strip-mined the world. The fact was this entire excursive was indeed unnecessary as the nebula provided all the resources required for building the war machine, but the robotic nation did it because they enjoyed it.  It satisfied the fulfillment their primary protocols, as had the recent destruction of the farming colony.  With that strike, they expected the Klingons to be incensed. They were, of course absolutely correct in their assessment. 

          The Supreme Imperium, with Lucifer the Imperious leader, and Spectre of the _Poison Mist_ stood together on the command deck of the finished star base, overlooking the Katasi Nebula. 

          Behind them stood twenty of the Imperial gold guards with the dual rotating eyes and armed with heavy disrupter cannons.  Linked, the three Cylon Dark Lords conferred with one another about their impending attack upon the Romulan Empire.  In the past two months since the declaration of war against the Federation and its allies, the Cylons launched four major attacks against the Romulans, destroying one major colony world and damaging at least five support worlds.  That Empire was in turmoil.

          The Imperium Supreme, a cybernetic leader whose head clearly defined by its three-lobed head and five sets of independently rotating optical sensors spoke. 

          "Is everything in readiness?" the Supreme Imperium asked, knowing full well the answer.  "I grow impatient for our war with the Federation.  It is intolerant that the Romulan organics continue to resist our will."

          "Their Empire is vast but not so much so that we cannot annex it," Lucifer, the Imperious Leader of the Cylon Empire, overall second in command and an IL series Lord, responded in its silky-smooth voice.  Many of the settled worlds represent Romulan colonies containing humanoid life.  Each has been targeting for elimination after the planet Romulus is subdued.  The twin world of Remus will fall immediately afterwards." 

          "Seven _Extreme_ class Basestars supported by fifteen _Hellions_ and its compliments of _Raiders_ and Hunter-Killer craft should be sufficient of destroy all resistance.  The sub-space accelerator may not be required," Spectre, another high-ranking IL Lord, added. "But I recommend that we use it anyway. The moral of the organics will melt, like ice does to water, once they observe its effects."

          Lucifer was not convinced. 

"I do not agree with your assessment, Lord Spectre.  Baltar tried many psychological attacks against the _Galactica_ and the results were always disappointing. The humans resisted even more so with each attempt.  "Then there is the fact that the weapon has limited use after firing. We can use it only twice before having to build another.  The Katasi world will not survive more than that number of firings.  And I am sure that the Federation suspect that it is a weapon of mass destruction."

          "Yes. I am in agreement," the Supreme Leader said.  "It is unfortunate that the Starship _Enterprise-E_ survived its incursion here and was able to retrieve data.  As my predecessor used to say, it is 'the fortunes of war'.  But I am pleased that the Borg have chosen to honor the treaty between our two races."

          "We must never trust them," Lucifer said quietly.  "They will swarm over us if an opportune time comes. They cannot assimilate us, but they will destroy us if we represent a significant enough threat to them.  We will send our expedition out when the Federation has been crushed under our collective feet.  We must complete our purpose of the mission before the Borg are aware that we have done so.  We are safe as long as they need us.  Most of the data has been retrieved on V'Ger."  And the data was not given by the Borg themselves, another sign of distrust between the two powers.

          "Agreed," Spectre said. "With the secrets that the V'Ger entity possesses safely within our grasps, and with our joining to that which created V'Ger complete, we will exterminate the Borg from the face of reality and a new age of the machine will arise."

          "Spectre, I expect you to be in position for the assault on Romulus in nineteen hours.  Your failure to destroy Picard and the _Enterprise-E_ has not gone unnoticed.  The _Extreme_-class Basestar _Turrent_ will be the flagship on this mission with Gold Leader Yuall in overall command under your direct supervision, if necessary.  Do not interfere unnecessarily, Spectre," the Imperious Leader said in its silky smooth voice. 

          "By the command," Spectre said.

"Commander Cain?  Cain?  Is that you?" 

Adama was almost paralyzed, amazement almost exploding across his face at the sight of the man standing in front of him.  There was something else there also.  Fear. The man before him was in his middle forties, fit and strong, an imposing figure in his updated dark brown Commanders uniform.  When he walked passed, Colonial warriors almost bowed to and he reveled in it.  He was back, with his hair in a –God help him- a ponytail.  His wife Siress Tinia looked as though she was ready to bolt.  Why did things like this had to happen? He hadn't even been home for a day.

          "It's those transporter the Federation has," he answered smugly.  "And to think, I didn't trust those things.  In any case, it's all very scientific and I'm sure that Cassiopeia can explain it to you, but the bottom line is that I am back and ready for another round with those Cylon sons of b-"

          "But Cain," Adama said cutting his friend off.  "The medical tests need to confirm if you are really fit for duty." 

Adama already distrusted the transportation devices and this most recent accident did nothing to endear him to them. Thomas Riker had already been an unwitting victim to those things and now this newest incident made him wonder whether he should ban them from the _Galactica_.  Cain looked well, but the thought of the possible aftereffects of this transformation was chilling. 

          "We need you Cain but we want to make sure you're okay. These unforeseen side effects-"

"Adama, I'm young again!" he said, practically yelling.  "Who knows? I might even have a couple of more kids with good old Cassie here.  I feel so good." 

Cassie looked at him, her eyes portraying a mixture that wavered between agreement and murder.  She wasn't that young herself and now Cain could be her younger brother.  That bothered her.  A lot.  Unlike her sex, men had a tendency to tire quickly with older women.  She hoped Cain was better than that. 

"Putting all that aside, Mr. President," Cassie announced quickly, "Commander Cain's condition is a result of transporter interference with what is being called a molecular reversion field that we encountered on the shuttle over to the _Galactica_.  It destroyed the metal on the ship and partially masked their bio-signatures.  Basically as the transporter chief tried to transport the Commander, the field masked certain genetic sequences called RVN's, which is short for ribo-veroxic nucleotides. These sequences control the aging process in people because unlike DNA the RVN's add sequences, which determines how and when we develop physically in our adult stages.  So when the Commander and the pilots were re-integrated the transporter reconstructed them as children or in his case a fairly young man.  According to the records, it's happened before and the process can be reversed. But-"

          "But?"

"The two pilots had their pattern buffers recorded and have been returned to normal," she continued.  "But Commander Cain has never been transported, so there is no original pattern to return him to normal. The USS_ Khe Sahn_ used a shuttle to bring him over…at your request.  So, he's stuck this way."

          "Is he stuck permanently like this?" Siress Tinia asked.  "This in incredible!"

          "He'll age normally," Cassie said.  "Besides, the process is extraordinarily dangerous.  Scientists have studied this process intensely and have rejected it as a viable youth reversing process.  There are simply too many variables.  Cain and the others were very, very lucky."

          "Luck had nothing to do with it," Cain announced.  "It was the fates, pure and simple.  I was born to fight Cylons and by heaven I'll do just that.  Now that we've found our brethren, I have no intentions of letting those cone heads ruin things here.  I can't wait to get back to the _Pegasus_ again.  I've seen her, you know.  She's more powerful than ever and so much more room.  There's no need for all that extra fuel.  The weapons system are like nothing I've ever seen on a Battlestar before. The Scanners alone-"

          _Enough of this. _

          "Commander," Adama said, his voice raised to command attention. "The command of the _Pegasus_ is Sheba's not yours." 

"I understand your feelings Adama, but I am more qualified to handle that ship, especially now, than my daughter.  She is good.  I taught her everything that she knows, but my experience is far in excess of hers and in this fight we need all the resources that we have," he said, his eyes glowing with anticipation.

          "In that you are correct," answered Adama evenly.  "And as President, it is my responsibility to decide where those resources will be best applied.  Until then, be patient and familiarize yourself with our situation and with yourself."

          The man before him was clearly deflated by this turn of events.  But life had given him a gift and he intended to use every micron of it.  Not having the _Pegasus_ was merely a minor problem. 

          For now.

          Cassie and Cain spent another centar with the President and his wife talking of tactical plans and the new life that their people were carving out in the Alpha quadrant. Despite everything, Cain seemed to like the Federation even though Adama could tell that he couldn't wait to get back into the war and show them what real fighting was.  It was simply the nature of the man.  He couldn't help himself.

_Molecular reversion fields?  Who thinks of these things? _

"Thank God," Tinia said when their visitors finally left. "That man!" 

          "Yes," Adama agreed. "But remember he saved our people more times that I can count.  And," he added. "We need him.  But I want him in tactical and not necessarily in the field.  His experience is invaluable, but I want him to look forward to the future, not the past. I want him to develop new ideas and new techniques.  These Cylons know his fighting patterns, mine as well.  We need flexibility and Cain doesn't understand that yet."

          Tinia swung around and grabbed her husband. 

          "Are you jealous?"

          Adama sighed. 

"A little," he admitted.  He has the chance to do it all over again, even correct some of the mistakes made so many years ago.  I have no need to be young again although if it had happened to me, I wouldn't have complained-as long as you were with me," he added, making her smile appreciatively.  "But I am content with my life as it is, because I have you.  And I have the grandkids, Boxey and Athenia."

          She smiled even more at his answer.  "Ever the diplomat." She kissed him firmly. "Speaking of which how's Athena doing with Thomas?"

He laughed long and loud. 

"Was I that obvious?"

          "Of course, with me that is. Husband, I know everything about you.  I know how you think and what some of your plans are.  They would be good with for one another, unlike Starbuck.  He is a fool you know?"  Then, she added "When it comes to women, that is."

          "I disagree with you, partially," Adama countered. "He suffers from a host of phobias. The loss, then finding, and then losing of his father.  The abandonment of his mother and the stress of keeping our people alive and his scandalous ways prevents him from committing to the women he needs most.  As a young warrior I understood his misgivings but now that he is older it has become a liability, because in the end none of those things are an excuse.  Either he changes or the children that could be so blessed by him being their father, will never exist."

          Tinia nodded her head in agreement. 

          "And in the end, family is what counts.  I know this.  But he needs to learn this before its too late." 

          "I pray that he does. But-" he was eying her with that look right now.  "That is his problem.  He's a man now.  Let him deal with it."

          "Hold it.  Exactly what are you thinking?" she asked, laughing.

"If you have no clue," he said with a pleasant smirk, "then you're not the politician that you used to be."

          She began laughing again.


	4. Dreams and the Reality of it all

**_CHAPTER THREE_** **                  DREAMS AND THE REALITY OF IT ALL**

Strike Commander Starbuck's shuttle was scheduled to rendezvous with the Battlestar _Pegasus_ in another two centares. He's been ecstatic that the ship had left before Commander Cain had set foot on the _Galactica_.  To most of the Colonials, the man was close to a god but to him, Cain was always that man who stood between himself and Cassie.  On the other hand, he knew in his heart that that was simply another excuse. And he was getting tired of those excuses**. **

          This was especially true now, with her on his mind. 

**            He told Apollo about his trip to New Halana onboard the _Khe Sahn_. Basically it was a milk run, after the battle between the Star base and the _Hellion_ class Basestar. The battle had been won but he was emotionally exhausted.  President Adama had given him permission to leave in order to sort out his feelings about a love lost and he came to the conclusion that that was exactly what it was.  There were so many conflicting emotions that he didn't actually know where to begin.  Never in his imagination did he expect what happened to him to occur in such a short time.  When he got back, the first thing he did was to talk to his best friend. He remembered telling Apollo how smooth the starship was in FTL. **

          "Even at that speed, you barely hear the engines," he had told Apollo so excitedly that even he had to admit that he sounded like a kid. 

**            He and Commander David Thompson, the _Khe Sahn's_ XO, had met one of the New Halana diplomats, that David fell heads over heels in love with. They both went to the planet to visit the woman's family several times more before they left to come back some three days later. **

          Being with that family was fantastic and watching David drool over the Jewenne was frankly hysterical, but Starbuck had to admit that she was beautiful. But her sister! 

          He had never seen anyone quite like her. Her walk, her voice, her dark skin, her dark brown hair, her-everything, even those slightly different ears were beautiful.  What was it about the ears in this section of space anyway?  In any case, Niddel was magnificent, the type of woman who was a woman when she was about fifteen yahrens old.  He was in love almost as soon as he heard her voice.  It was as though he was drawn to her.  And Starbuck realized that this wasn't simple lust, either.  She had been as drawn to him as he to her.  There were only two small problems: the first was that she was totally, miserably racked with guilt resulting from the fact that her husband had died a few years ago and she was happy about it because-and this was the second problem-she never wanted to leave the planet in first place and her husband was always on the go, taking her with him.  She'd taken one look at Starbuck and was as attracted to him and at the same time repelled by everything he represented.  At the same time, he seemed a study of contrast that she couldn't ignore.  But they talked for hours and incredibly he felt very much bonded with the woman.

**            Then, on the second day, her sister quietly dropped an antimatter bomb on him. **

It seemed that Niddel, her sister had a telepathic split personality, which he found out when her psychic half who called herself Fenna, met with him** that night.**** Again a slightly frightened Starbuck talked with Fenna for hours and when her real self woke up and her psychic self faded away, he was lost to her. Niddel never knew what Fenna had said, but both of them were attracted to him. Never in his imagination did he think something like this could happen to him, two sides of the same woman vying for his affections.**

And he had never even touched her.

When he returned from his trip on the _Khe Sahn_ he told Apollo and Sheba about her, they looked at him, smiled at him like he was a little child.  When it came to his personal life they had done that for years and he hated it.  Apollo was his best friend and somehow Sheba had wormed her way into his confidence as well. Together, those two knew him better than almost anyone else-except Cassie. 

**            "What is wrong with you?" his best friend had asked him. "Cassie wasn't out of your life for a sectar and you're galloping around the galaxy, getting involved with other women and an unstable one at that.  Don't you understand what you're doing every time you do this?"**

          "Do what?" he had snapped back. "There hasn't been anyone else since they Colonies were attacked. Cassie has been the only one and you know it."

**            "Yes, I do know that," Apollo countered. "But no one else does, Strike Commander Starbuck, and that's the whole point.  People perceive that you're a free spirited, devil-may-care warrior who put his life on the line countless times and has a girl on every ship in the fleet."**

          "But that's not true!"

**            "But, you never really discouraged the rumors, either," Sheba had added. "How do you think that made Cassie feel all these yahrens, especially since you chose not to Seal with her? You always had one excuse or another to avoid being committed to her."**

          That had struck home in more ways than one because part of it was true, but not in the way they assumed.  During the last 'discussion' he had had with her, he presented his best arguments for their coming back together.  But in the end, he'd failed.  He didn't convince her because he couldn't convince himself.  Even that little comment about the Deltans next to Cassie, shattered any unconscious belief that that he held that there was hope for them.  He loved her but he wasn't the one for her.  That bond he always felt they should have simply wasn't there.

"Starbuck," Apollo continued. "Do you know how many biographies and stories there are about you?  Do you have any idea of how closely your life is scanned? Everything you do, everything you think and say is recorded and interpreted a thousand different ways.  I've read novella stories about you that you wouldn't believe, involved with people you wouldn't believe," he said.  "You're a favorite. Whether you like it or not, your life is under a microscope and as a celebrity, you have to deal with that fact.  Plus the fact that she isn't human is going to cause a lot of problems." 

**            "Apollo, Sheba, listen to me," he had countered. "Apollo, you Sealed with Serina because you loved her and there was a bond there even though you barely knew her. Then you met Sheba," he continued, "and married her after she almost killed us. How long did you two wait? Five sectars?"**

          "True but…"

          "There is no 'but'," he countered.  "You two Sealed because again, you were in love** and the bond between you two was there.  Now granted if Cassie and I were part of a contracted Sealing, like the Nomen practice, then that bond I keep talking about wouldn't matter or maybe it would grow in time.  But this isn't the case here."**

          "Look, my personal life is an open book, that's true," Starbuck admitted.  "Whether she's human or not doesn't matter to me.  All of us are going to have to deal with this new life we've been given.  Our people are going to have to get used to a lot of new types of people.  But how they feel about it-that's not my problem.  But I will choose who I want to be with.  No one will chose for me, especially not the Council.  I know what they're trying to do.   Now, I admit my faults with Cassie," he continued, his voice full of passion.  "But she is free to choose now and she's right.  I have found the one that I'm interested in complete with all her faults, someone I intend to fight for and I hope I'm worthy," he finished.   

He didn't remember when he had exited their apartment. He hadn't remembered when he'd finished wiping his eyes.  He couldn't remember how he'd gotten to his room and lain on his bed.  He should have ignored the image of Fenna but that was no way he possible could.  And he didn't want to.  She needed him and he needed her.

**            "Fenna, or Niddel. Who ever you are. I'm coming back," he said softly while looking at the image he now carried with him. Silently, he swore that he would fight for this one, no matter what.  There would be problems.  Apollo and Sheba were correct.  The fact that she wasn't human would cause a bad stir among the people-the same people who had been cramped in decaying starships fearing the unknown for twenty-two yahrens.  It was going to be hard, but not impossible.  He never wanted to become the first to Seal with an alien-if she truly wanted him.  But he was going to give it a try.**

          "As the humans here say 'it's the roll of the dice.'  It was time to open his people's minds a little.

When Thomas Riker boarded the Battlestar _Galactica_, sporting a beard mixed a sparkle of gray, he looked so much like his copy-or did his copy look like him?-that no one really knew for sure.  Both Sheba and Apollo's sister Athena now Bridge Commander, at first glance assumed that it _was_ William Riker, but upon closer examination they realized that these were truly two separate people.  What stood in front of them was another victim of those accursed transporter devices. 

          The sight that greeted him was stunning.  He'd been on numerous starships before but nothing came close to the size of this monster, except maybe some of the space stations he'd seen recently. The bridge contained heavy-duty struts not unlike several bridges standing in Alaska, near his father's home.  What was staggering to him was this ship initially had no structural integrity fields supporting its massive bulk.  It relied on pure architecture alone to keep it from caving in upon itself. 

          _Brave people, he thought._

          The computers systems were a mixture of old and new just like the crewmembers. There were Colonials old guards, the Mariposans, some of which were identical clones and the Ligonians, distant descendents of a people from Earth removed from their native home in Africa and relocated by powers unknown, some two thousand years past.  What surprised him though were the two fast moving Hortas roaming the bridge doing surprisingly delicate work on the lateral sensor array. 

          "I didn't know they could do that," he said to the woman called Athena. He noticed how much she looked like her father, without the beard, of course.

          "Yes," she answered. "So were we.  But we discovered that their senses could detect the smallest changes in our circuitry, almost to microscopic levels.  And their manipulators, those little flagella things," she said pointing to the small whip-like appendages that worked like dozens of manipulators.  "Some of them are so small that they act like fingers which they can control very, very well.  Not only that but they can detect changes in magnetic and electrical fields.  And they're really smart."

          "I can see that," he said watch the silicon-based life forms scuttle across the bridge to help finish a wielding project that only it do.  On its back was a Federation communication device.  By the way the humanoid crewmembers talked and interacted with them, it was clear that the crew onboard love those things. "But why are they here?" Thomas asked. 

          "They're at war, too," Athena answered. "The Horta's acid is an extreme threat to the Cylons. We also believe that two days ago, they sent a cloaked ship to-"

"A cloaked Basestar?  My God." 

"The Federation has a tachyon net designed to expose cloaked intrusions in the Federation's core dominion, so the ship was caught.  It was traveling directly for the Horta home world.  The ship got away and it wasn't confirmed if it was a Basestar or not, but the emissions reeked of Cylon warp signatures.  The Hortas recognize the threat." 

          "The Klingons were also on the receiving end of those cloaks," Commander Sheba said, coming in on the tail end of the conversation. "They're all crazy now. They're about to hit the Cylons with everything they have.  I've never seen such a angry bunch of people in my life."

          "They can get expressive." _A classic understatement, _he thought. "What are you going to do?"

          "Well, The_ Galactica _stays here.  But, I'm leaving for the _Pegasus_ now. My father is coming and so are you. You're rated to fly the Federation _Saber_-class ships and Adama wants you in charge of one of them.  They're the same size as our destroyers and they'll augment us well."

"But I haven't flow in almost a five years," he protested. He was truly stunned by the revelation. "I've done some simulations but-"

"That was the reason why Captain Janeway had you work so hard on the simulations," Sheba said.  "My father and President Adama want you to begin working with the rest of our crew to help make a coherent battle group.  On the _Pegasus_ we have 'on loan' twelve combat ready runabouts and twelve _Sabers_. This, added to a full compliment of modified _Cobras_ and _Viper II's_ and five of the _Viper III's_, and thirty bring the number of ships to three hundred thirty. The fuel tanks were removed so we have a lot more room to play with.  The Battlestar support group consists of the _Vipers_, _Cobras_, the _Sabers_ and six updated _Adder_-class destroyers running screen.  No more flying alone anymore," she said. 

          That reminded him of the old Aircraft carriers battle groups of the twentieth and twenty-first centuries.  "They gave you Federation Starships?"  He was thinking hard now. This was not Starfleet policy. There were a lot of things going on here. Something was definitely up.

"The problem is," said Athena. "Most of our pilots are new and green.  We need training.  We like the Federation but we have no intentions of being dependent on them with this war. They're going to need everything they have and so are we but our battle strategies are not theirs and our weapons systems are not either. We may be becoming a independent nation soon and we need to be able to handle our own affairs."

"It's not that we have any sort of problems with them but this is our war even more so than theirs.  We know our enemies even if they changed.  But we need to be prepared.  We have to rely on ourselves also.  Starfleet knows that we all may have to approach this war differently in order to succeed."

          Riker caught the hint.   Now that was an interesting comment.  He let it go for the time being.

          "What about Janeway?" he asked instead. "The defenses that she's developing with your people are designed to keep your people safe." 

          "She's Federation," Sheba said.  "She's blood of our blood, as you are.  We will fight to the death for her.  She's here to defend us and we're here to defend her.  But there's more going on here than you know."

          "You were picked for a reason," Athena continued.  "Will you do it?"

"Yes.  If you'll agree to go to dinner with me, Athena."  She looked at him and produced a sly smile.  "I'm simply getting what I can," he finished innocently.

"You should set you goals slightly higher. You might be surprised."

Six hours later Sheba, Riker, Athena and Commander Cain reached the _Pegasus_. The sight of the giant yet, sleek Battlestar cause all of them to gape through the window.

          They could see a Klingon Bird-of-prey landing in the alpha bay while four _Viper IIs_ swept passed their _Adder_. In the distance, they could see several more Klingon and at least three _Adder_ destroyers flanking the massive ship as though she was a mother who needed protection. 

"She's as beautiful as I remember, " Cain whispered.  "They've changed the bridge structure slightly.  There's more of a view.  I can't wait to get to my ship," he whispered the winced slightly as he'd realized he was just a bit too loud.

          "It's my ship, father," her daughter said.  "It's my command."

          "Of course, of course."

          "Father don't fight me on this, help me." Her voice was strained, dangerous-and pleading.

          "You're right of course," he responded, pretending to ignore the sudden chill in the air. "I'm here simply to advise. Besides, I need to establish a rapport with those Klingons."

Thomas remained silent throughout the exchange. _This was going to be a rough assignment,_ he thought darkly.

**ROMULAN-FEDERATION NEUTRAL ZONE:**

For the last day, the_ Enterprise _communications have been picking up hundreds of transmission near the Romulan twin home worlds of Romulus and Remus.  It had become clear that the main Cylon taskforce had bypassed several Romulan strongholds for an attack directly on their home worlds.  Evidently, they were not interested in conquest, but simple extermination.  They hadn't even cared about being flanked.  Long distance scanners indicated wave after wave of fighters in savage combat with Romulan forces. The entire battle raged across four light years. Two more _Hellion_ fleets were vectoring in and the Romulans were just about exhausted.  And still they hadn't asked for help. 

Foolish pride! 

          "Mr. Data," Commander Troi-Riker asked. "Has Starfleet finished the analysis on the object being constructed by the Cylons in the Katasi system?"

          "The final report is in and it confirms our initial suspicions. The Cylon Empire has built a shielded factory complex, approximately one-forth the size of Earth's moon. It is exclusively designed for the production of their warriors and materiel. If they continue to mass-produce, I have estimated that the Cylons will have the capacity to out-produce us in two years, six months and that was without the projected causalities added in.  The planet that the factory is presently constructed from had been essentially stripped mined to obtain the materials.  It appears that the Cylons choose this method of construction as a means of intimidation because the nebula itself had more than sufficient amounts of materials that could have been used.  This was done to send the Federation and everyone else a message.  They wanted us to know that they had no concern about the lives they destroyed in the process." 

          "The circular structure orbiting Katasi Four appears to be some sort of sub-space accelerator.  It is very likely that this structure," he continued showing the donut-shaped apparatus on the main screen, "will be used as a subspace conduit connecting the Cylon home world in the Beta quadrant to their home base here.  The power requirements must be enormous in order to produce a stable wormhole."

          "But Geordie had mentioned a possibility of this being a weapon."

"It is unlikely that it might be an offensive weapon," Data answered.  "The front of the device is facing the nebula itself.  Any discharge would be dissipated by the energies present within the nebula.  However it could be used as a defensive weapon against incursions emanating from the nebula itself."

          The Starship's shields kicked in: the red alert sirens blared as the _Enterprise-E_ and the accompanying battle group of almost fifty ships of various configurations found itself surrounded by one hundred twenty Klingon battle cruisers. 

"We're being hailed, sir." 

          Picard was alarmed. Something was about to happen and this war was about to heat up significantly. 

          "Onscreen."

          A large, dark-skinned Klingon appeared on the viewer. 

          "Captain Picard."

          Picard recognized the Commander of the fleet.  It was Worf's younger brother. 

"Captain Kurn. It is good to see you again." 

          He watched as the Klingon bowed slightly.

"It is now Commander Kurn of the seventeenth defense fleet.  I still remember your dead burnt bird-chicken when I was onboard the _Enterprise_." 

His entire demeanor changed and Picard understood that the pleasantries were over. 

          "Two days ago, the Cylons attacked and destroyed of the farming colony of Kast'ka. The planet is lifeless; all three hundred million of my people slain. The Klingon council has authorized a full strike against our enemies starting with aid to the Romulan Empire whether they wish it or not.  We then proceed to go on the offensive.  Another fleet will be arriving shortly to follow us into battle." 

          Three hundred million people killed! The entire bridge crew was appalled. But it didn't explain how this could have happened.

          "Beware Picard, the Cylons had cloaked ships. Do not be caught unawares."

          He heard Riker whistle behind him. The war had just taken an ugly turn. 

"Starfleet command needs to be informed of this," he said referring to the confirmation of cloaked Cylon ships, not as they doubtlessly already knew, about Kast'ka.

Kurn bowed once more and the communications were cut. Seconds later the entire fleet cloaked. 

"I believe that the Cylons have pushed a little too far, this time," Commander Troi-Riker said.

"But why did they attack in the first place? Surely with cloaking technology the would have used it to better advantage than attacking a farming community."

          "It is possible," Data began "that the Cylons believe that the Klingons would have been intimidated by such an action."

          "Doesn't make sense."

"Everything that they done hasn't made sense," Deanna said. "They're stretching themselves thin."

"We've had this conversation before," Picard said rubbing his chin. "We are missing something here."

Data was one who provided a possible answer. 

"Whatever their current plans are, the Cylons apparent aggressiveness will cause them to move in an offensive manner.  Defensive tactics seem irrelevant to them.  It is as though they have some imperative that compels them to attack without regards to the possible consequences to themselves.  It appears we are dealing with a group of fanatics. I believe we must treat them as such."


	5. Preparations

**_                           CHAPTER FIVE_** **    PLANS-COUNTER PLANS:**

         Commander Apollo and Captain Brie were both watching the exercises on the main view screen as the two _Cobras_ were slowly changing their courses to vector in on a possible target.  The announcement of a change in routine was what had caught Brie's attention in the first place.  She had seen this before when normally a _Viper_ would attempt to catch a cloaked Klingon ship trying to evade detection.  Inwardly, she loved the idea of a cloaking system for the _Galactica_ and other capitals ships but they would have to see if the Klingons would agree to this.  In any case, she smiled grimly because the _Vipers_ and _Cobras_ were getting good at detecting them. 

"I believe we have ourselves another victim," she snickered.  "I love these detection units.  If the Cylons come, we'll be ready."

"I hope so," Apollo countered. "But I'll be happier when _the Pegasus_ comes back. I keep imagining a dozen of those Basestars homing in on us."

          "You have such evil thoughts," she countered, her voice shuttering at the thought of something like that occurring.  Their production units must be frightening." 

          This was one of the sticking points that the Colonials and their allies had.  At maximum output, the production rates of the Cylons were efficient enough to produce a Basestar and a support compliment every six days.  If they didn't go on offensive soon, they never would. 

"_Cobra's_ One and Thirteen have fired their tachyon bursts.  I believe they got 'em."

          Casually, the bridge crew watched as the light-particle bursts hit their target, another successful simulation. 

As one, the entire crew was stunned as the outline of a Basestar less than twenty thousand kilometers appeared before their eyes.  A micron later, the Battlestar _Galactica _went on full alert status.  The two _Cobras_ had launched at least twelve solonite missiles at their target, which exploded into view and now attempted to vaporize its tormentors. At the same time it launched two warheads at the _Galactica_ and two more at _Voyager _preferring-for the moment- to ignore everything else in the vicinity.

          Apollo and Brie instantly screaming orders as the missiles homed in on them. 

"Can we evade-?"

          "No way-!"

The Battlestar _Galactica's_ shields had snapped on the instant sensors detected the missiles coming towards them and the ship itself began moving just as the projectiles hit. Space blazed white as they impacted on the ship's powerful defensive screens.  The ship rocked while gunners began returning fire on the second Basestar. 

          Already _Vipers_ were being ejected from the Battlestar under the protective umbrella of the extended shields. The updated Colonial protector turned and fired its primary disrupters for the first time in anger. 

**AUSER SYSTEM THE ROMULAN LINE OF DEFENSE:**

The Command ship _Perarrsah_ laid in ruins, a victim of two high-energy blasts from an _Extreme_-class' disrupter bank.  From a crew of twelve hundred, there were seventy-two survivors including its Commander Tomalak.  The arrival of several more Cylon assault ships, which succeeded in flanking the Ninth Fleet, had torn through their ranks threatening the entire defense operation.  Only the arrival of the Klingons had turned the tide from certain defeat to something of a victory.  The Romulan Empire was still alive and fighting well enough to survive.

Squadrons of Klingon warships of all various types swarmed over Hellions and Cylon support ships. The new weaponry carried by the larger battleships effectively overcame defensive shielding thereby making the enemy vulnerable.  Several _Hellions _blew spectacularly, taking many of the guard ships along with them in the process. 

However, the Cylons returned as well as they got.  When anti-proton disrupters collided with Klingon shielding, usually that shielding ceased to exist.  The smaller _Raiders_ and H-Ks had a slight advantage over both Romulan and Klingon Bird-of-preys because of their initial overall lack of cooperation.  All of that changed when a small group of ships were cut apart as they each fought independently, got cut off and were destroyed. 

Spectre watched the entire scene with a look that could be only described as cold. The energy spikes swirling in its black oblong head had increased each time a _Hellion_ was destroyed.  It found the loss of contact with its fellow Cylons who 'no longer were' disturbing.  The second Klingon fleet would arrive within the centar and the filthy organics might forestall the inevitable.  This was the prescribed time that the Cylon Empire had waited for.  It signaled Gold leader Yuall to begin.

          "By the command," it said. 

Yuall's Basestar, the Turrent accompanied by seven additional Basestars broke away, heading directly for the Romulan homeworld of Remus. 

          Spectre sent its report to the Imperious Leader. 

          "We will draw the fleet to Remis," it transcieved.  "Proceed with the activation, as is your wish."

"The Supreme Imperium has given the command," the Imperious Leader said over the comms.  "The activation has begun." 

**THE KATASI SYSTEM:**

By the command of the supreme Imperium, the subspace gateway located three hundred miles above the remains of the planet Katasi activated, realigning itself as it built its power up slowly.  The transmitter, composed of duotronium-neutronium alloys was two point three seven kilometers in diameter and perfectly circular in shape.  It was designed as a three ringed structure by which the internal ring structure had now started rotating quickly.  The device itself was anchored in place by artificial gravity stabilizers connected by power shunts emanating from the planets surface, themselves drawing stability from the planet's core.  Twelve structures, large enough to seen from orbit, had been built in hexagon formations.   These were power transmitters, which shunted and regulated the massive storage batteries that were now discharging their energies into the gateway essentially giving the device the device the jumpstart needed to open the subspace conduit.  

          The planet itself suffered massive earthquakes with cracks in the mantle large enough to be seen from orbit.  Within two minutes, hundreds of miles around space glowed as a tight beam distortion wave of raw subspace energy swept through the nebula towards it final destination at the speed of transwarp fifteen. 

The first thing that Joliet recognized about Cylon targeting was that they never missed a target that wasn't evading like the preverbal 'Earth' bat out of hell.  Everywhere she had been, an instant later a beam the size of her _Cobra_ swept through that area. Two of her missiles had hit dead center, point-blank, and for a few moments, the _Hellion_ had almost seemed to specifically target her and _Cobra_ One to the exclusion to all-else. Both she and Boxey were moving close to light speed; anything less and they might as well simply be sitting targets. 

          The _Hellion's_ cloaking system had been obviously damaged and one docking bay had been rendered useless by the twelve missile strikes of multi-megaton weaponry.  A full third of the ship was destroyed, and now hundreds of Cylon fighters were spilling out towards the _Galactica_ and Mariposa.  On top of that a second Basestar materialized and spilled out its own fighters. The USS_ Voyager_ had gone to warp to escape two very large missiles chasing it and even then, they were in the process of being run down. 

          The instant the two _Cobras_ cleared the immediate danger zone, they returned into thick of the largest battle Joliet ever seen.  It reminded her of the stories that they used to hear about during the Colonial wars.  Ships were everywhere; The _Galactica's_ entire _Viper_ squadron had joined the fray along with Federation and the remaining two Klingon warships. 

Lieutenant Tom Paris jinxed the Federation starship with a movement that was never intended for an _Intrepid_-class ship in order to evade the two missiles homing in on them.  Successful, the starship _Voyager_ accelerated to maximum warp while the two smart Cylon missiles kept up with it trying to get into range close enough to detonate themselves and take the fleeing vessel with it.  Each one carried a directed antimatter-solonite warhead equal to that of a forty-megaton nuclear warhead.  Not even with it's enhanced shielding and ablated armor given to them by a future Admiral Janeway would resist that kind of direct strike. 

          "Lock phasers on those missile and see if we can detonate them," Janeway snapped, eternally grateful that Tom was at the helm.  He'd proven himself a gifted pilot over the seven years that they had been trapped in the Delta quadrant and now he was proving that those experiences had forged that gift to a fine edge.  The way he was evading those missiles now was a testament to that fact and the added incentive of having his wife and child onboard made him focus that much more.

          "Phasers locked," Kim responded.

          "Fire."

          Twin beams of phased energy hit both missiles squarely.  The energy was reflected away from the missiles by their personal shielding.  Janeway grimaced at the sight but she knew nothing was ever easy and in truth, she'd half expected her attack to fail in the first place.  From now on no more phasers for this battle, she promised. Quickly she readjusted her strategy.

          "Arm the quantum torpedoes and lock on to those missiles."

          "That last maneuver Tom made bought us some time," Kim announced.  "But they'll run us down in twenty seconds.  We're having trouble locking onto the missiles. They have some type of scattering screen that I'm trying to punch through now."

"Hurry, Mr. Kim." 

          "Yes, Ma'am." He was indeed hurrying with his configurations of the targeting systems. "I'm setting the torpedoes for close proximity strikes."

          "Do it."

A moment later, twelve quantum torpedoes leaped from the rear launch tube of _Voyager_. The Cylon missiles attempted to evade but were unable to because of their close proximity. 

          For a second, _Voyage_r was rocked by the explosion and space blossomed with light. But the starships shielding had held and already the ship was returning to the battle. 

          "No more phasers," she murmured.  The Klingons weren't the only ones with new weapons technology.  Loudly: "set a course for that second Cylon warship.  It's time to return the favor."

          "Course set."

          "Engage."

The Battlestar _Galactica _rotated quickly on its three-dimension axis bringing its main weapons to bear on the first Cylon_ Hellion_.  The damaged Basestar, recognizing the imminent threat of the Colonial Carrier continued to fire its anti-proton beams at the ship, trying futilely to overwhelm its force fields.  It was clear that the Commander onboard the Basestar has miscalculated the Battlestar's defensive capabilities.   Now, all four of its main weapons batteries were trying to incinerate the _Galactica._  Given time it could do it but time was something that it didn't have.  Already severely damaged, it was endeavoring to seek shelter from the second Hellion and a wall of Cylon fighters. 

That wasn't working out as well as it hoped for, Apollo mused, as Colonial and Federation ships weaved in and out, passed one another in their savage death dances with the Cylon fighters.  He actually smiled as he sub-consciously compared this attack with the brutal attack by a lone_ Hellion _so many months ago.  But for right now he'd let that go.  Only the battle mattered now.  The _Galactica's_ main beam weapons had locked onto the Basestar, microns ago with a range that was further than anything he could have imagined possible until recently. 

"How are their shields?"

          "Non-existent," the scanners officer said. "But their armor is still resistant against most of the smaller weapons fire." 

It was a testament to the armors efficiency and thickness that the ship was still in one peace after the blistering attack by the two _Cobras_ who hit it when their shields were down due to the cloak. 

"Use the lasers, dual set," he said quickly, deciding to test the new systems potential. "Fire when ready."

          "Firing."

The new laser system, designed with the same specifications in mind that the Borg used on the _Enterprise-D_ in twenty-three sixty-five, was a development by Colonial scientists whose understanding in laser weapons technology far exceeded the Federation's. The secret lay in the Aeriana gemstone discovered in the second year of the great exodus.  It had been found in the remains of a long cooled supernova explosion, which the _Galactica_ fleet had hidden from the Cylon fleet chasing it.  Aeriana apparently possessed a self-generating power matrix, which was a source of considerable debate between Federation scientists as to whether it was living or not.

Used as a focusing unit for the laser batteries, the overall power output was increased by almost thirty fold.  The problem lay with the efficiency of the energy containment units constructed by the Colonial scientists, which were not sufficient to handle the power generated.  Federation technology involving energy containment seemed to have solved the problem or so the simulations said. A force-ten shield supplemented the containment unit when firing the weapons.

The twin, dual, pure white shaft of energy shot out of the main weapons array of the _Galactica _as a series of hi-intensity pulses, over two thousand per second, hitting the unprotected, unshielded Basestar like a sledge hammer smashing an egg. The pulses melted their way through re-enforced armor and continued out the other side of what was left of the vessel. There was a quick image of the Cylon warship simply falling apart before it exploded spectacularly. 

The results were like nothing he or the crew expected. 

"My Lord," Apollo whispered. "I like it." 

          For an instant it seemed as the entire battle had stopped to witness the destruction.           Three seconds later, the laser system in the _Galactica_ shorted out and the entire laser array turned into slag as the containment system failed.  However, that didn't matter to the Cylons.  It became instantly apparent that the smaller Cylon fighters were now starting to avoid the _Galactica_.

          The _Galactica's_ weapons crew quickly switched to the main weapons, the powerful phase disruptors and began to close in on the second fully prepared _Hellion_ when a third Basestar De-cloaked and began hammering the_ Galactica's _port side shields.

          "It's an _Extreme_!" Apollo yelled. "Full evasive!"

Captain William Riker stifled a yawn as he sat in the command chair of the USS _Melbourne_. 

          For the last two weeks his ship had been on patrol between _Deep space_ Twenty-three and the Mariposa systems.  True, he understood the purpose of the patrols and the continual shakedown of his ship, which in fact was just about ready for full service.  Most of the bugs and minor problems had been corrected, the crew acclimated to this ship and personally he loved being in command.  It wasn't the _Enterprise_, but it was something better.  He could shape this ship and crew according to his dream.  But right now it was boring.  No, he corrected.  It was frustrating.  His wife, Deanna was on the _Enterprise_, while he was on the far edge of the patrol route. 

          There was a very large war developing on right outside that imagined bubble of safety most people had.   Another war, coming just after that disastrous Dominion conflict.  But this was different; he could feel it.  There was something raw here, not unlike the ancient accounts of two species trying to annihilate one another-organic versus inorganic, heavy metal against biological profundity.  Most wars were foolish, but this one was-strangely orchestrated, almost like someone else was pulling the strings. 

          Ensign Cowrin the communications bridge officer spoke. 

          "Captain, _DS_ twenty-three just went on priority one alert and the _Singtow_ has signaled us that it's heading for Mariposa.  Communications there have been cut off, sir."

          Riker's tiredness left instantly. 

          "For how long?" 

          "According to _Deep Space_ Twenty-three, about ten minutes, sir."

          "I want deep scans on Mariposa," he said. To his helmsman: "Plot an emergency course to Mariposa.  Red alert."

          Like himself, the entire crew's attitude changed instantly.  They were young, but ready.  He hoped that he wouldn't lead them to their deaths.  Overconfidence was one trait too many Captains experienced lately, and the toll had been great.  For all intents and purposes at forty something he was new 'the old man of command.' 

          "I am reading weapons fire. A lot of it, sir."

          That was not good. 

          "Helmsman engage. Emergency warp," he ordered quickly. He turned to Corwin and issued more orders. 

          "Tell _DS_ Twenty three of our status.  Weapons fire confirmed.  We are heading for Mariposa, now. "

          Aye, sir." 

The USS _Voyager_ decelerating violently, back into the Mariposa system, locked onto the nearest Basestar and fired its weaponry.  The modified quantum-trans-phasic torpedoes ripped a hole large enough for the _Voyager_ could have flown into if they'd wanted to.  Then Captain Janeway ordered the energy weapons to rake the ship.  The _Hellion's_ shields held barely as it returned fire on the tiny, fast moving Federation starship, which was now being aided by a Klingon Bird-of-prey.  The Basestars weaponry began fully concentrating its focus on _Voyager_.

          Janeway said nothing as _Voyager_ continued to return fire.  Among the Federation, _Voyager_ was the first of a new, unique group of Starfleet ships, a result of existing seven years trapped in the Delta quadrant.  Small as she was, she was also one of the most powerful ships in the fleet with third generation cascading ablated armor and multi-phasic torpedoes, both designed specifically with the Borg in mind and acquired from the future, no less.  Then, as with several of the newer starships like the _Melbourne_ and the newly upgraded _Enterprise-E_, beam weapons had been upgraded from phasers to the new standard.  This new array standard was called the isomagnetic disintegrator, far more powerful than the hottest phaser beams, which was now considered coming to end of its performance capabilities.   As phasers were to laser weaponry, so was the IMD to phasers.  The technology was still in its infancy, but baring unforeseen complications, all Federation starships were to be upgraded in the near future.  Phasers would still be used but as the IMD technology progressed, the old standby would begin its journey into obsolescence.

          The energy beams ravaged the _Hellion's_ shields. In response, the Cylon warship returned fire with every thing it had.  It and the Cylons understood that Janeway was on that ship and it would do whatever was demanded to destroy her.  The master had ordered it.

**ROMULUS:**

For the first time ever in the history of the Romulan Empire, the planetary defensive systems were being fired in anger against actual intrusions by an enemy force. Of the eight Basestars that had broken way from the main fighting, five had survived the Romulan-Klingon assaults while hundreds of attack craft were swarming through the outer rim, destroying everything in the outer edges of the system.  Several small stations, communications networks and military establishments had been obliterated. The casualness of the destruction made it clear that the Cylons were intent on a mission of genocide.  Three planet-cracker missiles aimed at Romulus had gotten close enough to send shockwaves cascading into the fifth planet, a gas giant. The ages-old cloud cover was disrupted, producing concentric rings of swirling angry colors. 

The fighting was melee of unbridled destruction and death.  The combined defensive fleet consisting of the second Klingon incursion fleet and elements of the Ninth Romulan attack task force, suffered terrible losses coming up directly against the _Extremes_.  Twenty percent of the forces involved were gone.  But the Cylons suffered as well against the new plasma class energy weapons the Klingons were now employing.  All of the surviving Basestars with the exception of the _Turrent_ had suffered significant damage.  A wing of Cylon Raiders commanded by a Gold Leader targeted a Klingon heavy cruiser, burned through their shields and vaporized the ship before help could arrive a few seconds later.  Seven _Raiders_ and a H-K were caught in crossfire and obliterated.  A Romulan Bird-of-prey's shields were overpowered, its crew transported away into an _Extreme_ class for interrogation and extermination.  A_ Hellion _was hit with multiple Klingon plasma beams, which overwhelmed shields and cut the vessel in half destroying it and several friendly vessels too close to the exploding debris. 

          Gold leader Yuall counted the down the microns to the withdraw activation. According to plan the main Cylon fleet were now executing a withdrawal from hostilities while the diversionary fleet, its fleet, redouble its efforts to destroy Romulus.  Already a large element of the Romulan-Klingon fleet were straight line vectoring towards them intent on deactivating all of its members in a violent orgy of organic-obsessed destruction. Yuall gave the command to fire all missiles at the planet's surface.  It had been calculated that none of them would reach their destination, but then that was the entire point.  The Cylon Gold Leader continued its countdown even as another of its Basestars melted into slag.

          The retreating enemy vessels now under the command of Lord Spectre continued the straight-line retreat losing many of the class-two _Raiders_ in the process.  Those ships, slightly modified remnants of the old existence were unimportant.  They were simply a distraction for that which was to come.  It hated running but what was coming would make no distinction between organics or inorganic.  It would not be prudent to remain in the area.

Boxey watched distractedly as a Cylon Hunter-Killer blew another _Viper II_ into ash, less than a metric from his ship.  A micron later two _Vipers_ and an _Adder _ripped into a cluster of Cylon fighters decimating the entire group.  But the big battle was between the _Galactica_, _Voyager_ and _Melbourne_ and the third armored _Hellion_ Basestar.  Even with the optical dimmers on full, none of the crew could even look in that general direction. That was a battle for the big ships, something he couldn't concentrate on as he dodged yet another attack from twin H-Ks trying to punch holes in his ship.  The smaller Cylon ships were clearly avoiding Mariposa's surface and for obvious reasons.  The surface defensive batteries hadn't allowed any enemy ships within fifteen hundred metrics to survive the experience, so that was one less thing to worry about. 

          His missiles were long gone but the disrupters were doing the job.  But there were so many of them that periodically, his people missed one.  hat was all it took, evidence provided as another _Cobra_ burst apart when a Cylon Raider slipped a disrupter pulse through its shield grid.  The Cylons thought they could sneak in by surprise and have it all in one shot.  The Colonials and others had been surprised.  But they got over it and now gave as good as they got.

          "Joliet," he yelled in the comms, shutting out the loud din inside his ship.  "One of the _Adders_ got itself separated.  The H-Ks are trying to kill it."

          "Understood," she said.  "I'm on your tail."

          The two _Cobras_ and microns later, three more, arced around to help their partner get out of situation it had found itself in.

The _Adder_-class Colonial destroyer, manned by a relatively inexperienced crew, was fighting back for all it were worth.   Normally an assault group consisted of two _Adders_, and four _Vipers_ and two _Cobras_ running escort.  The group covered all the inherent weaknesses of each class ship, together formed a formidable opponent.  A particularly vicious Cylon attack squad had separated _Adder_ Twelve from the survivors of its assault group. 

          It was Boxey's intention that it continued to survive, which was apparently the crew's desire as well, judging by the intensity of the firepower coming from the rotating quad heavy disrupters. 

          "_Adder_ Twelve, we're coming," Boxey called through the radio.  "Everybody, on my mark- let's clear this area," he yelled into the comms.  "Fire!"

          All five of the C_obras_ and _Adder _twelve fired a massive burst, and an entire squadron caught unawares, turned into flaming wreckage. The _Adder_ streaked away, rejoining its group.

"That's the way-" 

          BAM!

          An instant later, Boxey tasted blood, which dripped from his throbbing forehead. His eyes were blurred from the smoke rapidly filling the cockpit and the wound itself. Boxey looked around, eyes blurred and caught sight of his engineer, his neck twisted at an odd angle.  Then he heard the most horrible screams he'd ever imagined behind him. His weapons officer had lost her hand, being severed at the wrist by flying debris inside the cockpit. 

"Cobra One! _Cobra_ One!" Why was Joliet screaming at him? It took him a second to realize that he was hurt-bad.  "Can you hear me?" she continued to scream. 

          "We're here, more or less," he managed to say.  For a second he'd forgotten that he was flying.

          "Thank the Lord of Kobol! The whole left side of your ship's been shredded," she screamed.  "You're losing containment."

"Cusheta is dead."

          "You're losing containment!" she repeated. 

          To her left a _Raider_ was sliced in half by the Galactica's long–ranged defensive cannons, even while it fought with the _Extreme_.

"Solium or antimatter?" he asked, trying to determine what type of missile had hit him.

          "Both!"

          "I'll try to pull us out of the battle," he said manipulating the controls, which were extremely sluggish, towards a vector away from the combat zone.

          "You don't have time! You have to abandon your ship, now!"

          Boxey's attention was drawn to the flashing blue-red light. 

          "_Cobra _Thirteen," he slurred. He was getting light-headed. "You may be right."

Lord Belzim watched impassively from his command room as another Cylon _Raider _disappeared in a flash of expanding light and dust.  The plan to obliterate the planet Mariposa along with the Battlestar _Galactica_ and the USS _Voyager_ was being challenged to say the least.  Two _Hellions_ and its own _Extreme_ should have been sufficient to complete the operation but maybe the calculations were wrong.  In its current state the _Galactica _could barely hold its own against its own vessel, but it wasn't alone.  The Tiny _Voyager_ starship carried weaponry that hadn't been encountered before.  The modified quantum torpedoes were a threat in itself, but the other two projectiles identified as trans-phasic torpedoes had all but vaporized the second _Hellion_ and had damaged its own ship.  It appeared that the ship had only two available.  That was something positive.  However there was another problem.  Both the _Galactica_ and _Voyager_, had some new type or ablative plating which kept its anti-proton beams from doing what they were supposed to; destroy both ships.  Evidently the _Galactica_ had not completed its reconstruction, but there were enough improvements to defend itself in battle against two _Hellions_ and the standard compliment of fighters.  This operation would be deemed a failure if the Colonial, Federation and those Klingon war-craft proceeded to attack this vessel, but they were occupied with over two hundred seventy Cylon _Raiders_ and H-Ks. 

          A silver centurion twisted its head towards it. 

          "By the Command," it transmitted via its subspace transceiver. "Two Federation battleships have entered the area. They have joined the fight against us." 

          That was stating the obvious. The vibrations shaking its ship had increased significantly. 

          However, it didn't matter.  This ship had been modified with extra shielding and weaponry specifically for this operation.  The edict was clear.  Terminate Adama, Picard and Janeway.  It was judged that at least two of the targets were present.  It would not turn back.

          "Increase the rate of fire against the _Galactica _and _Voyager_," it ordered.

          "The systems will overload, as you are aware."

          "I am aware.  Proceed." 

          It watched as the _Galactica_ was hit again, their shields withstanding the increased firepower. 

          If only the _Galactica_ would not move so quickly, it wished, then it could complete its programming.  Its ship shook again as disintegration beams punched through its shields creating large ruptures in its wake.

Apollo was again almost knocked out of his command chair by the blasts trying to pepper his ship.  The _Galactica_ was fast but not like _Voyager_ and Cylon tracking was monstrously accurate.  He ordered Firing control to hit that abomination again and smiled in satisfaction as the _Extreme_ shuttered violently.  They were trading blow for blow, a contest he knew they'd lose.  This Basestar was actually a modified warship-prime with power ratings above even the regular _Extremes_. 

          "Turn starboard thirty by one-twenty, full impulse," he ordered.  "We're close enough to use the missiles."

          "It's about time," Brie yelled over the din. "Weapons control. Disengage primary and secondary safeties on missiles one through fifteen," she ordered.

          "Primaries and secondaries are disengaged," weapons control answered.  "Target locked. Missiles are primed and ready."

          The _Galactica _completed its hard turn now fully facing the _Extreme_, which had just let loose a blistering volley of weapons fire at the fast dodging _Voyager_ and _Singtow_. _Voyager_ was sideswiped but the _Singtow_ took a direct hit.  The beam went through the _Nebula_-class starship's shields and cleanly sliced off half of the port nacelle. The _Galactica_ could hear the transmissions of the crew as engineering Frantically tried to dump the warp core. The _Galactica_ was still fifteen microns from optimal firing range with the missiles, but it could still inflict damage with its disrupters and that was exactly what it did.  The full force of its attack could be seen from the surface of Mariposa. 

          The _Singtow_ was effectively dead in space from that single strike. Shielding was gone as was the now exploded warp core.  The only thing available was one-quarter impulse.  They were moving away now and allied ships were fighting off constant sniping by _Raiders_ and the more dangerous H-Ks.  But the _Extreme_ was targeting the ship again even while preparing to defend itself against the oncoming _Galactica_.

"Onscreen."

          Captain Riker and the bridge crew were stunned for a moment. The devastation in this star system was unbelievable.  There were small, medium and large fighter craft everywhere.  Weapons fire was thick enough to walk on. 

          The USS _Melbourne_ had just dropped out of warp less than a minute behind the _Singtow_ and now the _Singtow_ was wrecked, its nacelle torn off and leaking plasma like a bloody wound. 

          To the side, _Voyager_ was attacking a vessel that looked just a little smaller than a Borg cube and the _Galactica _was turning like a jet fighter homing in on its target.  There were Cylons everywhere and every few seconds a bright light signaled the death of a ship. H e had to decide quickly where he could be the most effective.

          "Full shields," he said.  His voice always got quieter when he planned to do something extraordinarily dangerous.   _It was interesting_ he thought.  "Helm, plot a course to take us between the Basestar and the _Singtow_.  Do it."

          The _Sovereign _Starship glided effortlessly through the mass of fighters occasionally blowing Cylon fighters out of space with its disintegrator banks.  Like many of the newer ships being built it also had isomagnetic disintegrator banks as its main weapons, as well as its standard phaser array and quantum torpedoes.  The ship had not received its trans-phasic torpedo allotment yet. 

          "Extend shields around the _Singtow_ and fire disintegrators on the Basestar."

          "Shields extended." 

          The _Melbourne's_ shields surrounded the Singtow while its tractors helped to move it out of range of the Basestar. Twice the Basestar targeted the _Melbourne,_ attempting to burn through its shields.

          "Weapons firing," Mr. Zunna said. 

Bright beams connected the _Melbourne_ to the Cylon mother ship. Its shields flashed brightly with the strain of defending itself from a three-pronged attack. 

          "Sir," Corwin said. "The _Galactica_ is in missile range and will fire in four seconds." 

"Well, let's help out," he ordered. "Mr. Zunna, I want four banks of quantums targeted on that monstrosity."

          "Acknowledged."

          "Fire," he said, almost murmuring, now half standing out of his chair with his fist in the air. 

          The Battlestar _Galactica_, buffeted by the raking it had just received finally reached it's intended range.  Forward shields were almost gone. Shots were getting through being absorbed by the front armor that was rapidly burning away.

          "Commander, we're in range," Brie said. 

          "Then fire," Apollo yelled, his gray hair falling into his face.  He felt the whole ship shutter as fifteen solonite-antimatter, short-range missiles streaked towards their intended target. 

Onboard the _Voyager_, Captain Janeway saw the _Galactica's _intentions and planned to help out. Her ship had been damaged enough by these robots.

          "Mr. Kim use our last trans-phasic torpedo and all of the photons and fire on that thing."

          "Yes, Ma'am," the lieutenant said. "Firing-" 

Lord Belzim looked at the threat display with resignation. 

          "Plan unsuccessful," it transmitted.  "Targets live.  Try again.  Ruination proceeds." 

          The IL series Lord looked at its view screen as weapons fire homed in on its ships like a maddened insect swarm. 

          Close to forty projectiles of various types hit the Basestar from three different directions.  Its shields flared brightly, rupturing then collapsing as the trans-phasic torpedo single-handedly blew a third of the ship away.  This single Basestar had been especially designed to withstand attacks from multiple vectors.  It offered protection and frightening firepower, but flexibility was not one of its strong points.  A second later, the ship blew, momentarily creating a new star in the heavens.


	6. PlansCounter plans

1.1.1  
  
1.1.2 Chapter Five  
  
Plans-counter plans  
  
  
  
Commander Apollo and Captain Brie were both watching the exercises on the main viewscreen as the two Cobras were slowly changing their courses to vector in on a possible target. The announcement of a change in routine was what had caught Brie's attention in the first place. She had seen this before when normally a Viper would attempt to catch a cloaked Klingon ship trying to evade detection. Inwardly, she loved the idea of a cloaking system for the Galactica and other capitals ships but they would have to see if the Klingons would agree to this. In any case, she smiled grimly because the Vipers and Cobras were getting good at detecting them.  
  
"I believe we have ourselves another victim," she snickered. "I love these detection units. If the Cylons come, we'll be ready."  
  
"I hope so," Apollo countered. "But I'll be happier when the Pegasus comes back. I keep imagining a dozen of those Basestars homing in on us."  
  
  
  
"You have such evil thoughts," she countered, her voice shuttering at the thought of something like that occurring. Their production units must be frightening." This was one of the sticking points that the Colonials and their allies had. At maximum output, the production rates of the Cylons were efficient enough to produce a Basestar and a support compliment every six days. If they didn't go on offensive soon, they never would. "Cobra's One and Thirteen have fired their tachyon bursts. I believe they got 'em."  
  
Casually, the bridge crew watched as the light-particle bursts hit their target, another successful simulation.  
  
As one the entire crew was stunned as the outline of a Basestar less than twenty thousand kilometers appeared before their eyes. A micron later, the Battlestar Galactica went on full alert status. The two Cobras had launched at least twelve solonite missiles at their target, which exploded into view and now attempted to vaporize its tormentors. At the same time it launched two warheads at the Galactica and two more at the Voyager preferring-for the moment- to ignore everything else in the vicinity.  
  
Apollo and Brie instantly screaming orders as the missiles homed in on them.  
  
"Can we evade-?"  
  
"No way-!"  
  
The Battlestar Galactica's shields had snapped on the instant sensors detected the missiles coming towards them and the ship itself began moving just as the projectiles hit. Space blazed white as they impacted on the ship's powerful defensive screens. The ship rocked while gunners began returning fire on the second Basestar.  
  
Already Vipers were being ejected from the Battlestar under the protective umbrella of the extended shields. The updated Colonial protector turned and fired its primary disruptors for the first time in anger.  
  
  
  
Auser system: The Romulan line of defense:  
  
The Command ship Perarrsah laid in ruins, a victim of two high-energy blasts from an Extreme-class' disruptor bank. From a crew of twelve hundred, there were seventy-two survivors including its Commander Tomalak. The arrival of several more Cylon assault ships, which succeeded in flanking the Ninth Fleet, had torn through their ranks threatening the entire defense operation. Only the arrival of the klingons had turned the tide from certain defeat to something of a victory. The Romulan Empire was still alive and fighting well enough to survive.  
  
Squadrons of Klingon warships of all various types swarmed over Hellions and Cylon support ships. The new weaponry carried by the larger battleships effectively overcame defensive shielding thereby making the enemy venerable. Several Hellions blew spectacularly, taking many of the guard ships along with them in the process.  
  
However, the Cylons returned as well as they got. When anti-proton disruptors collided with Klingon shielding, usually that shielding ceased to exist. The smaller Raiders and H-Ts had a slight advantage over both Romulan and Klingon Bird-of-preys because of their initial overall lack of cooperation. All of that changed when a small group of ships were cut apart as they each fought independently, got cut off and were destroyed.  
  
Spectre watched the entire scene with a look that could be only described as cold. The energy spikes swirling in its black oblong head had increased each time a Hellion was destroyed. It found the loss of contact with its fellow Cylons who 'no longer were' disturbing. The second Klingon fleet would arrive within the centar and the filthy organics might forestall the inevitable. This was the prescribed time that the Cylon Empire had waited for. It signaled Gold leader Yuall to begin.  
  
"By the command," it said. Yuall's Basestar, the Turrent accompanied by seven additional Basestars broke away, heading directly for the Romulan homeworld of Remis.  
  
Spectre sent its report to the Imperious Leader, known as Lucifer. "We will draw the fleet to Remis," it transcieved. "Proceed with the activation, as is your wish."  
  
"The Supreme Imperium has given the command," the Imperious Leader said over the comms. "The activation has begun."  
  
  
  
The Katasi system:  
  
By the command of the supreme Imperium, the subspace gateway located two hundred miles above the remains of the planet Katasi activated, realigning itself as it built its power up slowly. The transmitter, composed of duotronium-neutronium alloys was two point three seven kilometers in diameter and perfectly circular in shape. It was designed as a three ringed structure by which the internal ring structure had now started rotating quickly. The device itself was 'anchored' in place by artificial gravity stabilizers connected by power shunts emanating from the planets surface, themselves drawing stability from the planet's core. Twelve structures, large enough to seen from orbit, had been built in hexagon formations. These were power transmitters which shunted and regulated the massive storage batteries that were now discharging their energies into the gateway, in essence giving the device the jumpstart needed to open the subspace conduit. The planet itself suffered massive earthquakes with cracks in the mantle large enough to be seen from orbit. Within two minutes, hundreds of miles around space glowed as a tight beam distortion wave of raw subspace energy swept thru the nebula towards it final destination at the speed of transwarp fifteen.  
  
  
  
The first thing that Joliet recognized about Cylon targeting was that they never missed a target that wasn't evading like the preverbal 'Earth' bat out of hell. Everywhere she had been, an instant later a beam the size of her Cobra swept thru that area. Two of her missiles had hit dead center, point-blank, and for a few moments, the Hellion had almost seemed to specifically target her and Cobra One to the exclusion to all else. Both she and Boxey were moving close to light speed; anything less and they might as well simply be sitting targets.  
  
The Hellion's cloaking system had been obviously damage and a docking bay had been rendered useless by the twelve missile strikes of multi-megaton weaponry. A full third of the ship was destroyed, and now hundreds of Cylon fighters were spilling out towards the Galactica and Mariposa. On top of that a second Basestar materialized and spilled out its own fighters. The USS Voyager had gone to warp to escape two very large missiles chasing it and they were in the process of running it down.  
  
The instant the two Cobras cleared the immediate danger zone, they returned into thick of the largest battle they'd ever seen. It reminded Joliet of the stories that they used to hear about during the Colonial wars. Ships were everywhere; The Galactica's entire Viper squadron had joined the fray along with Federation and the remaining two Klingon warships.  
  
  
  
Lieutenant Tom Paris jinked the Federation starship with a movement that was never intended for an Intrepid-class ship in order to evade the two missiles homing in on them. Successful, the starship Voyager accelerated to maximum warp while the two smart Cylon missiles kept up with it trying to get into range close enough to detonate themselves and take the fleeing vessel with it. Each one carried a solonite warhead equal to that of a forty-megaton nuclear warhead. Not even with it's enhanced shielding and ablated armor given to them by a future Admiral Janeway would resist that kind of direct strike.  
  
"Lock phasers on those missile and see if we can detonate them," Janeway snapped, eternally grateful that Tom was at the helm. He'd proven himself a gifted pilot over the seven years that they had been trapped in the Delta quadrant and now he was proving that those experiences had forged that gift to a fine edge. The way he was evading those missiles now was a testament to that fact and the added incentive of having his wife and child onboard made him focus that much more.  
  
"Phasers locked," Kim responded.  
  
"Fire."  
  
Twin beams of phased energy hit both missiles squarely. The energy was reflected away from the missiles by their personal shielding. Janeway grimaced at the sight but she knew nothing was ever easy and in truth, she'd half expected her attack to fail in the first place. From now on no more phasers for this battle, she promised. Quickly she readjusted her strategy.  
  
"Arm the quantum torpedoes and lock on to those missiles."  
  
"That last maneuver Tom made bought us some time," Kim announced. "But they'll run us down in twenty seconds. "We're having trouble locking onto the missiles. They have some type of scattering screen that I'm trying to punch thru now."  
  
"Hurry, Mr. Kim."  
  
"Yes, Ma'am." He was indeed hurrying with his configurations of the targeting systems. "I'm setting the torpedoes for close proximity strikes."  
  
"Do it."  
  
A moment later, twelve quantum torpedoes leaped from the rear launch tube of Voyager. The Cylon missiles attempted to evade but were unable to because of their closeness.  
  
For a second, Voyager was rocked by the explosion and space blossomed with light. But the starships shielding had held and already the ship was returning to the battle.  
  
"No more phasers," she murmured. The Klingons weren't the only ones with new weapons technology. Loudly: "set a course for that second Cylon warship. It's time to return the favor. "  
  
"Course set."  
  
"Engage."  
  
  
  
The Battlestar Galactica rotated quickly on its three-dimension axis bringing its main weapons to bear on the first Cylon Hellion. The damaged Basestar, recognizing the imminent threat of the Colonial Carrier continued to fire its anti-proton beams at the ship, trying futilely to overwhelm its force fields. It was clear that the commander onboard the Basestar has miscalculated the Battlestar's defensive capabilities. All four of its main weapons batteries were trying to incinerate the Galactica. Given time it could do it but that was something that it didn't have. Already severely damaged, it was endeavoring to seek shelter from the second Hellion and a wall of Cylon fighters.  
  
That wasn't working out as well as it hoped for, Apollo mused, as Colonial and Federation ships weaved in and out, passed one another in their savage death dances with the Cylon fighters. He actually smiled as he sub- consciously compared this attack with the brutal attack by a lone Hellion so many months ago. But for right now he'd let that go. Only the battle mattered now The Galactica's main beam weapons had locked onto the Basestar, microns ago with a range that was further than anything he could have imagined possible until recently.  
  
How are their shields?"  
  
Non-existent," the scanners officer said. "But their armor is still resistant against most of the smaller weapons fire." It was a testament to the armors efficiency and thickness that the ship was still in one peace after the blistering attack by the two Cobras who hit it when their shields were down due to the cloak.  
  
Use the lasers, dual set," he said quickly, deciding to test the new systems potential. "Fire when ready."  
  
"Firing."  
  
The new laser system, designed with the same specifications in mind that the Borg used on the Enterprise-D in twenty-three sixty-five, was a development by Colonial scientists whose understanding in laser weapons technology far exceeded the Federation's. The secret lay in the Aeriana gemstone discovered in the second year of the great exodus. It had been found in the remains of a long cooled supernova explosion, which the Galactica fleet had hidden from the Cylon fleet chasing it. Aeriana apparently possessed a self-generating power matrix, which was a source of considerable debate between Federation scientists as to whether it was living or not.  
  
Used as a focusing unit for the laser batteries, the overall power output was increased by almost thirty fold. The problem lay with the efficiency of the energy containment units constructed by the Colonial scientists, which were not sufficient to handle the power generated. Federation technology involving energy containment seemed to have solved the problem or so the simulations said. A force-ten shield supplemented the containment unit when firing the weapons.  
  
The twin, dual, pure white shaft of energy shot out of the main weapons array of the Galactica's as a series of hi-intensity pulses, over two thousand per second, which hit the unprotected, unshielded Basestar like a sledge hammer smashing an egg. The pulses melted their way thru re- enforced armor and continued out the other side of what was left of the vessel. There was a quick image of the Cylon warship simply falling apart before it exploded spectacularly.  
  
"My Lord," Apollo whispered. "I like it." The results were like nothing he or the crew expected.  
  
For an instant it seemed as the entire battle had stopped to witness the destruction.  
  
Three seconds later, the laser system shorted out and the entire laser array turned into slag as the containment system failed. However, it was instantly apparent that the smaller Cylon fighters were now starting to avoid the Galactica.  
  
For an instant it seemed as the entire battle had stopped to witness the destruction.  
  
Three seconds later, the laser system shorted out and the entire laser array turned into slag as the containment system failed. However, it was instantly apparent that the smaller Cylon fighters were now starting to avoid the Galactica.  
  
The Galactica's weapons crew quickly switched to the main weapons, the powerful phase disruptors and began to close in on the second fully prepared Hellion when a third Basestar De-cloaked and began hammering the Galactica's port side shields.  
  
"It's an Extreme!" Apollo yelled. "Full evasive!"  
  
  
  
  
  
---Captain William Riker stifled a yawn as he sat in the command chair of the USS Melbourne. For the last two weeks his ship had been on patrol between Deep space Twenty-three and the Mariposa systems. True, he understood the purpose of the patrols and the continual shakedown of his ship, which in fact was just about ready for full service. Most of the bugs and minor problems had been corrected, the crew acclimated to this ship and personally he loved being in command. It wasn't the Enterprise, but it was something better. He could shape this ship and crew according to his dream. But right now it was boring. No, he corrected. It was frustrating. Deanna was on the Enterprise. He was on the far edge of the patrol route. There was a full war developing on right outside that imagined bubble of safety most people had. Another war, coming just after that disastrous Dominion conflict. But this was different; he could feel it. There was something raw here, not unlike the ancient accounts of two species trying to annihilate one another-organic versus inorganic, heavy metal against biological profundity. Most wars were foolish, but this one was-strangely orchestrated, almost like someone else was pulling the strings.  
  
Ensign Cowrin the communications bridge officer spoke. "Captain, DS twenty- three just went on priority one alert and the Singtow has signaled us that it's heading for Mariposa. Communications there have been cut off, sir."  
  
Riker's tiredness left instantly. "For how long?"  
  
"According to Deep Space Twenty-three, about ten minutes, sir."  
  
"I want deep scans on Mariposa," he said. To his helmsman: "Plot an emergency course to Mariposa. Red alert."  
  
Like himself, the entire crew's attitude changed instantly. They were young, but ready. He hoped that he wouldn't lead them to their deaths. Over confidence was one trait too many captains experienced lately, and the toll had been great. For all intents and purposes at forty something he was new 'the old man of command.'  
  
"I am reading weapons fire. A lot of it, sir."  
  
That was not good. "Helmsman engage. Emergency warp," he ordered quickly. He turned to Corwin and issued more orders. "Tell DS Twenty three of our status. Weapons fire confirmed. We are heading for Mariposa, now. "  
  
Aye, sir."  
  
  
  
The USS Voyager decelerating violently, back into the Mariposa system, locked onto the nearest Basestar and fired its weaponry. The modified quantum-trans-phasic torpedoes ripped a hole large enough for the Voyager could have flown into if they'd wanted to. Then Captain Janeway ordered the energy weapons to rake the ship. The Hellion's shields held barely as it returned fire on the tiny, fast moving Federation starship, which was now being aided by a Klingon bird of prey. The Basestars weaponry began fully concentrating its focus on Voyager.  
  
Janeway said nothing as Voyager continued to return fire. Among the Federation, Voyager was the first of a new, unique group of Starfleet ships, a result of existing seven years trapped in the Delta quadrant. Small as she was, she was also one of the most powerful ships in the fleet. It had third generation cascading ablated armor and multi-phasic torpedoes, both designed specifically with the Borg in mind. Then, as with several of the newer starships like the Melbourne and the newly upgraded Enterprise-E, beam weapons had been upgraded from phasers to the new standard. This new array standard was called the isomagnetic disintegrator, far more powerful than the hottest phaser beams, which was now considered a dead-end technology. As phasers were to laser weaponry, so was the IMD to phasers. The technology was still in its infancy but baring unforeseen complications, all Federation starships were to be upgraded in the near future.  
  
The energy beams ravaged the Hellion's shields. In response the Cylon warship returned fire with every thing it had. It and the Cylons understood that Janeway was on that ship. It would do whatever was demanded to destroy her. The master had ordered it.  
  
  
  
Romulus:  
  
For the first time ever in the history of the Romulan Empire, the planetary defensive systems were being fired in anger against actual intrusions by an enemy force. Of the eight Basestars that had broken way from the main fighting, five had survived the Romulan-Klingon assaults while hundreds of attack craft were swarming through the outer rim, destroying everything in the outer edges of the system. Several small stations, communications networks and military establishments had been obliterated. The casualness of the destruction made it clear that the Cylons were intent on a mission of genocide. Three planet-cracker missiles aimed at Romulus had gotten close enough to send shockwaves cascading into the fifth planet, a gas giant. The ages-old cloud cover was disrupted, producing concentric rings of swirling angry colors.  
  
The fighting was melee of destruction and death. The combined defensive fleet consisting of the second Klingon incursion fleet and elements of the Ninth Romulan attack task force, suffered terrible losses coming up directly against the Extremes. Twenty percent of the forces involved were gone. But the Cylons suffered as well against the new plasma class energy weapons the Klingons were now employing. All of the surviving Basestars with the exception of the Turrent had suffered significant damage. A wing of Cylon Raiders commanded by a Gold Leader targeted a Klingon heavy cruiser, burned thru their shields and vaporized the ship before help could arrive a few seconds later. Seven Raiders and a H-T were caught in crossfire and obliterated. A Romulan bird-of-prey's shields were overpowered, its crew transported away into an Extreme class for interrogation and extermination. A Hellion was hit with multiple Klingon plasma beams, which overwhelmed shields and cut the vessel in half destroying it and several friendly vessels too close to the exploding debris.  
  
Gold leader Yuall counted the down the microns to the withdraw activation. According to plan the main Cylon fleet were now executing a withdrawal from hostilities while the diversionary fleet, its fleet, redouble its efforts to destroy Romulus. Already a large element of the Romulan-Klingon fleet were straight line vectoring towards them intent on deactivating all of its members in a violent orgy of organic-obsessed destruction. Yuall gave the command to fire all missiles at the planet's surface. It was assumed that none of them would reach their destination, but then that was the entire point. The Cylon Gold Leader continued its countdown even as another of its Basestars melted into vapor.  
  
The retreating enemy vessels now under the command of Lord Spectre continued the straight-line retreat losing many of the class-two Raiders in the process. Those ships, slightly modified remnants of the old existence were unimportant. They were simply a distraction for that which was to come. It hated running but what was coming would make no distinction between organics or inorganic. It would not be prudent to remain in the area.  
  
  
  
Boxey watched distractedly as a Cylon Hunter-Killer blew another Viper II into ash, less than a metric from his ship. A micron later two Vipers and an Adder ripped into a cluster of Cylon fighters decimating the entire group. But the big battle was between the Galactica, Voyager and Melbourne and the third armored Hellion Basestar. Even with the optical dimmers on full, none of the crew could even look in that general direction. That was a battle for the big ships, something he couldn't concentrate on as he dodged yet another attack from twin H-Ts trying to punch holes in his ship. The smaller Cylon ships were clearly avoiding Mariposa's surface and for obvious reasons. The surface defensive batteries hadn't allowed any enemy ships within fifteen hundred metrics to survive the experience, so that was one less thing to worry about.  
  
His missiles were long gone but the disruptors were doing the job. But there were so many of them that periodically, his people missed one. That was all it took, evidence provided as another Cobra burst apart when a Cylon Raider slipped a disruptor pulse thru its shield grid. The Cylons thought they could sneak in by surprise and have it all in one shot. The Colonials and others had been surprised. But they got over it and now gave as good as they got.  
  
  
  
"Joliet," he yelled in the comms, shutting out the loud din inside his ship. "One of the Adders got itself separated. The H-Ts are trying to kill it."  
  
"Understood," she said. I'm on your tail."  
  
The two Cobras and microns later, three more, arced around to help their partner get out of situation it had found itself in.  
  
  
  
The Adder-class Colonial destroyer, even though manned by a relatively inexperienced crew, was fighting back for all they were worth. Normally an assault group consisted of two Adders, and four Vipers and two Cobras running escort. The group covered all the inherent weaknesses of each class ship, together formed a formidable opponent. A particularly vicious Cylon attack squad had separated Adder Twelve from the survivors of its assault group.  
  
It was Boxey's intention that it continued to survive, which was apparently the crew's desire as well, judging by the intensity of the firepower coming from the rotating quad heavy disruptors.  
  
"Adder Twelve, we're coming," Boxey called thru the radio. "Everybody, on my mark- let's clear this area," he yelled into the comms. "Fire!"  
  
All five of the cobras and Adder twelve fired a massive burst, and an entire squadron caught unawares, turned into flaming wreckage. The adder streaked away, rejoining its group.  
  
1.1.3  
  
"That's the way-"  
  
BAM!  
  
An instant later, Boxey tasted blood, which dripped from his throbbing forehead. His eyes were blurred from the smoke rapidly filling the cockpit and the wound itself. Boxey looked around, eyes blurred and caught sight of his engineer, his neck twisted at an odd angle. Then he heard the most horrible screams he'd ever imagined behind him. His weapons officer had lost her hand, being severed at the wrist by flying debris inside the cockpit.  
  
"Cobra One! Cobra One!" Why was Joliet screaming at him? It took him a second to realize that he was hurt-bad. "Can you hear me?" she continued to scream.  
  
"We're here, more or less," he managed to say. For a second he'd forgotten that he was flying.  
  
"Thank the Lord of Kobol! The whole left side of your ship's been shredded," she screamed. "You're losing containment."  
  
"Cusheta is dead."  
  
"You're losing containment!" she repeated. To her left a Raider was sliced in half by the Galactica's long–ranged defensive cannons, even while it fought with the Extreme.  
  
"Solium or antimatter?"  
  
"Both!"  
  
"I'll try to pull us out of the battle," he said manipulating the controls, which were extremely sluggish, towards a vector away from the combat zone.  
  
"You don't have time! You have to abandon your ship, now!"  
  
Boxey's attention was drawn to the flashing blue-red light. "Cobra Thirteen," he slurred. He was getting light-headed. "You may be right."  
  
  
  
  
  
Lord Belzim watched impassively from his command room as another Cylon Raider disappeared in a flash of expanding light and dust. The plan to obliterate the planet Mariposa along with the Battlestar Galactica and the USS Voyager was being challenged to say the least. Two Hellions and its own Extreme should have been sufficient to complete the operation but maybe the calculations were wrong. In its current state the Galactica could barely hold its own against its own vessel, but it wasn't alone. The Tiny Voyager starship carried weaponry that hadn't been encountered before. The modified quantum torpedoes were a threat in itself, but the other two projectiles identified as trans-phasic torpedoes had all but vaporized the second Hellion and had damaged its own ship. It appeared that the ship had only two available. That was something positive. However there was another problem. Both the Galactica and Voyager had some new type or ablative plating which kept its anti-proton beams from doing what they were supposed to; destroy both ships. Evidently the Galactica had not completed its reconstruction, but there were enough improvements to defend itself in battle against two Hellions and the standard compliment of fighters. This operation would be deemed a failure if the Colonial, Federation and those Klingon war-craft proceeded to attack this vessel, but they were occupied with over two hundred seventy Cylon Raiders and H-Ts.  
  
A silver centurion twisted its head towards it. "By the Command," it transmitted via its subspace transceiver. "Two Federation battleships have entered the area. They have joined the fight against us."  
  
That was stating the obvious. The vibrations shaking its ship had increased significantly. However, it didn't matter. This ship had been modified with extra shielding and weaponry specifically for this operation. The edict was clear. Terminate Adama, Picard and Janeway. It was judged that at least two of the targets were present. It would not turn back.  
  
"Increase the rate of fire against the Galactica and Voyager," it ordered.  
  
"The systems will overload, as you are aware."  
  
"I am aware. Proceed."  
  
It watched as the Galactica was hit again, their shields withstanding the increased firepower. If only the Galactica would not move so quickly, it wished, then it could complete its programming. Its ship shook again as disintegration beams punched through its shields creating large ruptures in its ship.  
  
  
  
Apollo was again almost knocked out of his command chair by the blasts trying to pepper his ship. The Galactica was fast but not like Voyager and Cylon tracking was monstrously accurate. He ordered Firing control to hit that abomination again and smiled in satisfaction as the Extreme shuttered violently. They were trading blow for blow, a contest he knew they'd lose. This Basestar was actually a modified warship-prime with power ratings above even the regular Extremes.  
  
"Turn starboard thirty by one-twenty, full impulse," he ordered. "We're close enough to use the missiles."  
  
"It's about time," Brie yelled over the din. "Weapons control. Disengage primary and secondary safeties on missiles one thru fifteen," she ordered.  
  
"Primaries and secondaries are disengaged," weapons control answered. Target locked. Missiles are primed and ready.  
  
  
  
The Galactica completed its hard turn now fully facing the Extreme, which had just let loose a blistering volley of weapons fire at the fast dodging Voyager and Singtow. Voyager was sideswiped but the Singtow took a direct hit. The beam went thru the Nebula-class starship's shields and cleanly sliced off half of the port nacelle. The Galactica could hear the transmissions of the crew as engineering Frantically tried to dump the warp core. The Galactica was still fifteen microns from optimal firing range with the missiles, but it could still inflict damage with its disruptors and that was exactly what it did. The full force of its attack could be seen from the surface of Mariposa.  
  
The Singtow was effectively dead in space from that single strike. Shielding was gone as was the now exploded warp core. The only thing available was one-quarter impulse. They were moving away now and allied ships were fighting off constant sniping by Raiders and the more dangerous H-Ts. But the Extreme was targeting the ship again even while preparing to defense against the oncoming Galactica.  
  
  
  
"Onscreen."  
  
Captain Riker and the bridge crew were stunned for a moment. The devastation in this star system was unbelievable. There were small, medium and large fighter craft everywhere. Weapons fire was thick enough to walk on.  
  
The USS Melbourne had just dropped out of warp less than a minute behind the Singtow and now the Singtow was wrecked, its nacelle torn off and leaking plasma like a bloody wound. To the side, Voyager was attacking a vessel that looked just a little smaller than a Borg cube and the Galactica was turning like a jet fighter homing in on its target. There were Cylons everywhere and every few seconds a bright light signaled the death of a ship. He had to decide quickly where he could be the most effective.  
  
"Full shields," he said. It was interesting he thought. His voice always got quieter when he planned to do something extraordinarily dangerous. "Helm, plot a course to take us between the Basestar and the Singtow. Do it."  
  
The Sovereign class ship glided effortlessly through the mass of fighters occasionally blowing Cylon fighters out of space with its disintegrator banks. Like many of the newer ships being built it also had iso-magnetic disintegrator banks as its main weapons, as well as its standard phaser array and quantum torpedoes. The ship had not received its trans-phasic torpedo allotment yet.  
  
Extend shields around the Singtow and fire disintegrators on the Basestar."  
  
"Shields extended."  
  
The Melbourne's shields surrounded the Singtow while its tractors helped to move it out of range of the Basestar. Twice the Basestar targeted the Melbourne attempting to burn thru its shields.  
  
"Weapons firing," Mr. Zunna said.  
  
Bright beams connected the Melbourne to the Cylon mother ship. Its shields flashed brightly with the strain of defending itself from a three-pronged attack.  
  
"Sir," Corwin said. "The Galactica is in missile range and will fire in four seconds."  
  
"Well, let's help out," he ordered. "Mr. Zunna, I want four banks of quantums targeted on that monstrosity."  
  
"Acknowledged."  
  
"Fire," he said, almost murmuring, now half standing out of his chair with his fist in the air.  
  
  
  
The Battlestar Galactica, buffeted by the raking it had just received finally reached it's intended range. Forward shields were almost gone. Shots were getting thru being absorbed by the front armor that was rapidly burning away.  
  
"Commander, we're in range," Brie said.  
  
"Then fire," Apollo yelled, his gray hair falling into his face. He felt the whole ship shutter as fifteen solonite-antimatter, short-range missiles streaked towards their intended target.  
  
  
  
Onboard the Voyager, Captain Janeway saw the Galactica's intentions and planned to help out. Her ship had been damaged enough by these robots.  
  
"Mr. Kim use our last trans-phasic torpedo and all of the photons and fire on that thing."  
  
"Yes, Ma'am," the lieutenant said. "Firing-"  
  
  
  
Lord Belzim looked at the threat display with resignation. "Plan unsuccessful," it transmitted. "Targets live. Try again. Ruination proceeds." The IL series Lord looked at its view screen as weapons fire homed in on its ships like a maddened insect swarm.  
  
Close to forty projectiles of various types hit the Basestar from three different directions. Its shields flared brightly, rupturing then collapsing as the trans-phasic torpedo single-handedly blew a third of the ship away. This single Basestar had been especially designed to withstand attacks from multiple vectors. It offered protection and frightening firepower, but flexibility was not one of its strong points. A second later, the ship blew, momentarily creating a new star in the heavens.  
  
Next: Chapter Six: Surrender is not an option (in other words; it gets a lot worse)  
  
  
  
  
  
Snippet 2: A universe of change  
  
Those six minutes of delay made all the difference in the universe.  
  
  
  
Hyperspace jump gate next to Babylon Five:  
  
Senior captain Terrell Drake, commander of the Evanston, and Group Leader for the second attack wave looked increasingly agitated as the battle for Babylon Five continued. Being assigned rearguard seemed somehow shaming to him especially since it was assumed that B-Five would fall rather quickly, being overcome by the first wave of four Destroyers and support craft led by the Clarkston. His task force was assign as a back up for any possible problems that B-Five might have up their sleeves. They were about a half hour behind Task Force Alpha coming in hard from their pacification of Proxima Three. The fight for B-Five had been worse than anyone expected and he intended to end it here and now. The traitors on the Alexander were still alive but the Churchill had just rammed into a Destroyer destroying both ships. Point of fact was that the first strike team had failed in their pacification of Babylon Five with all of the line ships being destroyed. The breeching pod attempt had been judged a failure since the station was still defending itself. On top of that reports had indicated a strange white alien ship had stopped just short of the battle a few seconds before his task force would make the jump, as though watching some sort of spectator sport. It had been tentatively identified as one of the same ships the Rochester and Pournelle had been tracking, heading for Babylon Five. Their standing orders were to disable and bring the alien ship for further study if possible. Those two EAS Destroyers had joined his little armada just before they reached the jump point. He welcomed them although this was now overkill.  
  
President Clarke was correct about the aliens in general. They were like scavengers, just waiting to snatch some scraps from the battle. Well, that wasn't going to happen on his watch. He intended to make an example for all to see. If only they'd gotten there sooner, they wouldn't have lost so many ships over a space station. On the other hand, when Earth Force chased down the white ship it would send a message for all to see that Earth was no one's plaything.  
  
The five EAS ships and Breeching Pod exited the jump gates and a moment later, the Captains found themselves appalled by the devastation. Their whole fleet had been scattered or destroyed. The Cassandra and the Roanoke were gone. But the other side had suffered as well, and were in no condition to fight a second round against fresh ships.  
  
Saddened and enraged that his people had suffered such loss, Captain Drake contacted the B-Five taskforce. "Babylon Five, under the authority from President Clark, you are ordered to surrender the station. All senior officers are under arrest. If you resist, we will use force." He closed the communications link.  
  
He hoped that they put up some type of resistance. It wouldn't be much but he planned to make an example of these people, as per Clarke's suggestion. Resistance had to be stamped out and this takeover would solidify his power and those meddling aliens would never interfere with Earth again.  
  
  
  
In Babylon Five's command center, Lieutenant Corwin had been surprised that they had withstood the attack by President Clark's war machine. The Alexander had survived but the Churchill had been severely damaged then crashed into an enemy Destroyer demolishing both ships. Captain Sandra Hiroshi's last words had been that primary systems were hit and there were fires on all decks. The majority of enemy Thunderbolt Star Furies had be disabled or destroyed and the station itself was still intact. The first Breeching Pod had attached itself to B-Five but the invaders had been checked and defeated by the Narn and Security forces. Like everywhere there had been heavy fighting and many, many deaths. It was a brutal slaughter on both sides.  
  
He thanked God that Commander Susan Ivanova had been able to eject from her damaged Star Fury in time and was still alive. He also thanked God that the fighting was over because his forces couldn't have lasted much longer. Scans had detected a large ship of unknown configuration sitting at the edge of the fighting apparently scanning the Churchill just before it crashed. He had no idea as to how it got there without his detecting it. One moment there was nothing there and the next a very large ship was at their front door. It just simply appeared. He was about to order a detailed scan when all of a sudden the jumpgate activated and several more of Clark's warships slipped into normal space. He'd muttered a quick 'Oh no,' without even realizing it. He looked towards his captain silently awaiting orders. Captain Sheridan sighed, thinking hard as to what his next plan would be. He had the look of a desperate man, which of course was exactly what he was.  
  
  
  
Onboard the Evanston, the communications officer expected and received an answer to his captain's hail. But he was looked perplexed and somewhat surprised by what came over the radio link.  
  
"Sir? We're receiving a hail."  
  
"So. What is it?" he snapped. "Are they surrendering?" He hoped it wasn't true because he was already feeling vaguely disappointed.  
  
"We're having trouble with the video feed, but it's from the white ship." Comms piped it thru.  
  
"This is Captain Jean-Luc Picard onboard the USS Enterprise," the voice said. "Babylon Five is under our protection. You will stand down and leave Babylon Five space or we will open fire and evict you from this area. Respond."  
  
How dare they interfere with this mission! Irritated, Captain Drake punched his comm-link. "Negative. We have authority here. Do not force us to fire on you, Enterprise." That was an Earth name he realized. Earth Intelligence was correct in their assessment. This may very well be a human-run vessel. Who was this 'Captain' Picard? Logic suggested that this was one of Sheridan's secret weapons.  
  
To his navigator and weapons officers: "Proceed and target that ship if they even twitch." Interference would not be tolerated.  
  
"Affirmative, sir."  
  
***  
  
  
  
"To all ships," Drake announced. "The Evanston and Rochester will neutralize the Enterprise threat. To the Adrastus and Pournelle, subdue the Alexandria, and Lenmark escort the Breeching Pod to B-Five and give it cover. All ships will converge on B-Five after we have completed our initial tasks. Let's make this happen people."  
  
"Lieutenant Hung, steer us to that Captain Picard's ship. I want it out of the way as soon as possible." The captain of the Evanston fully expected the ship to turn tail and run. And if not, then two to one was never good odds for someone to play with. "Fire as soon as you get into range."  
  
"Sir," the radar officer said, his voice raised. "They're moving towards us."  
  
Captain Drake looked at the white ship growing larger in his window by the second. "So be it. Lock on and fire as soon as we're in range." It was a shame that they would have to shoot holes in such a pretty ship, but when you played with fire, you got burnt.  
  
A small fleet of Star Furies prepared to engage the Alexandria, its defenders and B-Five. Another group of the small one-man fighters flew towards the Enterprise ship with the support Destroyers and prepared to shoot it to bits. If there were anything left then the science labs on Earth would have a good time researching the pieces. Fifty-two millimeter pulse cannons and twin heavy lasers blasted from the Evanston, impacting on the Enterprise-D's shields just before the Federation ship began to move more rapidly than it had any right to. 


	7. Surrender is Not an Option

                        CHAPTER SIX 

                   SURRENDER IS NOT AN OPTION

**THE ROMULUS SYSTEM:**

The Praetor decked in full armor complete with disrupter rifle and his pistol at his side, stood on the bridge of the flagship _Romulan Joy_, battered, bruised, but defiant and most importantly, still alive.  He wasn't sure whether to be happy or just relieved, but he was pleased that he was in charge of saving his people.   Romulus and Remus were still there.  The Cylon taskforce had been repelled but at a terrible cost.  Almost a third of his combative fleet had been damaged or destroyed.  Without the help of the Klingons, they would have certainly have failed in the protection of the home world.  But already, he had started thinking of the immediate future.  They were now stuck in a defensive war, which could only end in disaster. 

Much of his fleet was near the homeworld, having fought a vicious battle with the breakaway assault force.  The Cylons managed to fire two torpedoes that penetrated the inner defensive ring.  One hit the planet and exploded in a relatively unpopulated area. Only a half million people died there. 

          If the Romulan people were to survive, then he could envision only two options; surrender, which was impossible, the people would never allow it.  The Romulan Senate would serve his head on a food plate to the people.  And it was a forgone conclusion that the Cylons would never accept that surrender.  The other choice was to seek help.  His head furrowed in dread of that decision.  This was one of the options he'd thought about during the beginning of the war, but he bowed to the wishes of the thrice-cursed Tal Shair. 

Through the view screen, he looked once more at the remnants of his once proud navy, mixed hand in hand, so to speak, with their sometimes on and off allies.  However he was proud of his people, never more so than now.  They had come together in crisis and had survived.  He could do no less.  He would officially ask the Federation for help. Things had changed and it was time to eliminate the Tal Shair from the face of Romulus. He had no doubt that the Senate and the military would support him in the upcoming purge. 

          "I want to speak to Supreme Commander Tomalak," The Leader demanded. 

          "Yes, Praetor," the subordinate officer responded instantly. Evidently Tomalak had just received a promotion. "He is on screen, my Praetor."

          "Supreme Commander Tomalak," he said to the surprised Romulan Commander. "You look like you've been in a war." 

          There was a touch of amusement in his eyes.  It was the twinkle of victory, or of at least staving of utter defeat.

          "Yes, I do, my Praetor," he answered unconsciously trying to straighten his clothing while trying not to cough because of the smoke. "Are the home worlds safe?"

          "Yes," he answered, relief in his eyes. "What is your status?"

          "The enemy is fleeing, but we are in no shape to pursue." 

          His ship had several gaping breeches with which only the force fields to protect them from destruction, until the repairs could be made.

That was a shame, but understandable. 

          "Maintain status," the ruler ordered. "The fleet from the outer Rims is coming. With them we can hold them off until we can establish a treaty with the Federation and the Klingon Empire against a common enemy."

Tomalak could hear the weariness in the Praetor's voice, but personally he was proud of his Supreme leader.  Instead of cowering behind some locked door issuing orders, he had been in the front lines, irrespective of the dangers in order to defend his people.  And now the suggestion of a treaty with the Federation and over an open channel no less, spoke of his strength and desperation.  In truth, this was a decision that should have been made months ago, but the Tal Shair's resistance was so virulent that even the Emperor had to be aware of his place when dealing with them.  And again they had the Federation to thank he mused.

          Captain James T. Kirk. 

          How many of his people hated that cursed name.  He and his ship were responsible for the failure and subsequent destruction of the previous Emperors finest warship so many decades ago.  Had it truly been almost a hundred years now?  The Tal Shair, then a minor police force, had goaled the Emperor into attacking the security net between the Romulan-Federation.  The then Emperor, who really didn't need that much persuasion, ordered the Bird-of prey to destroy the outposts, determine defensive capabilities, and so gather momentum for the invasion to follow.  Kirk and his _Enterprise_ lay waste to those plans.  The people, not to mention politicians, were incensed at the failure and threatened the very Imperium itself.  Desperate, the Emperor tracked down his adversaries with the help of the military and his new ally the Tal Shair.  The purge was so successful that the Tal Shair was elevated to a new posting-the now dreaded and much feared Secret Police. 

          In the decades that followed, their power in influence increased so much that the Romulan people were little better than slaves and even the Emperor was forced to tread lightly. 

          Freedoms were now almost non-existent, until this war. Now everyone had a common goal. 

          Survival. 

And the Tal Shair was still trying to subvert even this with their manipulations and lusts for power. 

          By the Emperor's open intention to ask Starfleet for help indicated that a purge would be in the works shortly. 

          "My Praetor," he responded. "We need to booster Sector twelve.  The Phinis Station must be recaptured at…" 

          To his dismay, the transmission image began breaking up.  This had happened several times probably due to the amounts of clutter, jamming and counter jamming in the general area he believed.  It then cleared for a moment and in that moment, the Praetor had completely forgotten about him.  In the background, he heard someone yelling for maximum shields.  The look on his leader's face chilled him to his soul.  An instant later, the screen went blank.

          "Restore communications," he ordered to an already frantic communications officer obeying that order even before it had been given.

          "Commander," someone said from another area of the bridge.  Sensors officer Tavash, he remembered.  "There was a subspace burst headed for the planet Romulus. Sensors couldn't calculate the power ratio.  It was off the scale."

          "Contact the Praetor," he repeated harshly. 

A deep pit began to open inside Tomalak.  It was as though a piece of his life had just been ripped from him. 

          "I can't," came the frightened reply.  "There is no one responding, no one at all."

           A female technician at the engineering station began screaming hysterically.  Next to him, his third in command began whimpering, mumbling to himself. 

          The communications Centurion yelled suddenly, again uncharacteristically for one of his rank. 

"The Klingon vessel K'lash is contacting us.  They're transmitting visual, Sir." 

The wide-eyed Captain was doing a lot more pointing rather than speaking.  The visual that he displayed was of a planet that Tomalak didn't at first recognized surrounding the planet were hundreds of glowing balls, now understood to be the remains of exploding starships.  The sight was incomprehensible and his eyes simply refused to acknowledged what his heart already knew.  Romulus, his home, one of the twin hearts of the Empire, no longer supported life. 

          The once reddish hued planet had turned to color brown.  The small oceans, the forests, the ice caps that huddled at the polar regions-all brown. 

          A warbird next to his blew up as that crew rampaged in an orgy of self-destruction. 

          "What happened?" He couldn't quite get the words out.

The Klingon responded harshly, now almost insane with hatred against their common enemy. 

"A subspace carrier wave bombarded your homeworld for six seconds," he explained.  "The carrier wave in itself was nothing but it contained enough amounts of microwave and ionization radiation that it eliminated all life on the planet. Not even viruses could have survived."  

          The planet Romulus had been subjected to a dose of radiation sufficient to kill every living thing instantly.  The inhabitants simply dropped where they walked, their cells ionized and ruptured.  The radiation burns would appear later on the remains.  Nor had Romulus' small seas been immune to the disaster.  They now boiled with almost thirty percent instantaneously vaporized into the atmosphere.  Aquatic life cooked in the radioactive slush.  The tiny polar ice caps were gone as well. 

          A few secured facilities protected by force fields were spared somewhat, but those survivors were trapped inside until the radiation surrounding those areas abated.  No one would dare chance a transport through that concentration of radioactive atmosphere. 

          "We calculate that ninety-five percent of the radiation had dissipated before it hit your planet," the Klingon angrily continued.  "But it was still enough kill everything.  Its point of origin was identified as the Katasi system." 

          _Cylons_. 

          That thing they had built that the stealth ship _Eppenrau_ had discovered and reported on so long ago had been a weapon of mass destruction.  No wonder they had retreated.  They knew what was coming. 

          "What of my Leader?"  He was himself raging now, his heart demanding to destroy something, but his mind still controlled that rage. 

"Two hundred forty-three Klingon and Romulan ships were caught in the wave-and destroyed. There were no survivors." 

          The Klingon continued speaking but Tomalak was no longer listening.  As with the rest of his people he was gripped in that terrible loss.  No matter what they said or believed, the Romulans were Vulcanoid and in fact they were connected to each other. The sudden loss of thirteen billion Romulan minds was too much.  Being mostly untrained in the mind arts, it took more time for them to feel it, but the Romulan survivors, even those who weren't considered telepathic as such, had felt that psychic scream. 

Lord Spectre's optical sensors recorded every detail as the energy slammed into the planet, exposing it to Death for six seconds.  Its ships sensors documented the explosions, the vaporizing of the seas and the destruction of the vessels caught in the direct line of the beam. 

          It judged the situation satisfactory.  It was unfortunate that the accelerator's use was limited to one firing per shot.  Now, it would take much time to repair and recharge and realign.  Its enemies of course didn't know this fact and that fact would be held over their heads as long as possible.

          Effectively half the defense fleet had been removed and part two of the plan would now be implemented.  The retreat was over.  Gold Leader Yuall's fleet reversed its course as it did its own. T he organics would be confuse, disorganized as the Colonials were so many yahrens ago, but this time the Cylon Imperium was not going to chase them half way across the galaxy.  There would be no need for that, now.

          "Imperium Supreme, Imperious Leader," it transcieved. "By the command. Romulus has been removed. Proceeding to Remus."

          The response was instant. 

          "We are satisfied," the Imperium Supreme responded, its voice more magnanimous than usual.  "Proceed to Remus, remove all opposition and await further instruction."

          That surprised Spectre.  It expected to be instructed to destroy the planet along with the population.  Why was it ordered to wait?  The imperatives demanded that it destroy the organics!  This was against the directive!

          Lord Spectre froze for a moment and withstood the Ruination Imperatives as it threatened to override all other programming.  It would honor its leader's order, but it would be a challenge.

          "To all Basestars of the black nebula squadron," it transmitted.  "Proceed to the planet Remus.  Remove all opposition, converge on the planet Remus."

          "By the command," each ship responded. 

          All six Basestars and support crafts acknowledged its orders, reversed course and vectored towards the planet. 

"Supreme Commander!" 

"What?" Tomalak snapped.  He was still in a slight stupor, but not so much as to not recognize the sound of warning.

          "They've reversed course," he said quickly. "They all are!"

          "Where! Exactly!" He had a sinking feeling that he already knew.

          "They're vectoring towards Remus, Sir."

          He knew it.  They were taking full advantage of the situation, exactly what he would have done.  The Klingon-Romulan forces were more than halved and they could not trust their Klingon 'allies to remain no matter what kind of honor that would entail.  He was in charge now and it was his decision. 

          He moved quickly back and forth on his bridge, thinking hard. 

          "I want a direct line to Remus Command Central," he said quickly to the communications officer.  The officer nodded quickly.  "On my order," he started.  "As Commander of the combined fleet, I regret to order the general evacuation of the planet. A large Cylon fleet is converging on our remaining homeworld and we will not be able to stop its approach. But we may be able to delay it long enough for the Imperial Rim fleet to defend our homeland."

          "The Praetor has died in glorious battle against-" 

          He froze. The transmission ceased.

          "You will not order the planet to evacuate," Kramik the Tal Shair Prime said as he placed his hand disruptor at Tomalak's temple.  "That order is to be rescinded!  The Romulan star Empire does not run from its enemies.  You will not tell them of our humiliation unless we order you to do so.  You are not in control here.  We are."

          Tomalak cursed himself for a novice. He'd forgotten about that spineless, power hungry creature.  He'd been so inconspicuous during the fight that he didn't even remember that Kramik was on board.  Now he was about to pay for that error.

          "The people do not need to know things that will disturb their contentment."

          The Commander couldn't believe it. 

          "What contentment?" he yelled, oblivious to the weapon jammed into his head.

          "You fool," Kramik snapped. "We can't evacuate the entire population. There's not enough time.  Only a small portion can be save.  Only the important can be saved."

          "And who is important?" he asked innocently.  He already knew the answer but Tomalak assumed the fool would say it loud enough for all to hear. 

          "Those who serve." 

          That answer condemned him.

          From the corner of his eye he watched as Kramik dropped like a stone. 

          "Thank you, T'vas," he said looking the unconscious Kramik.  T'vas stunned the Tal Shair who dropped like a rock.  "Throw him out of the nearest airlock," Tomalak said, knowing that if they didn't kill him, their lives were forfeit.  "And make sure he is still alive when you do it."

          "Yes, Commander," two security guards said as they picked up the unconscious Tal Shair. 

          They were more than happy to do so.  If there were undercover members of that order onboard-and there were-they'd think hard before doing anything to him, especially during this crisis. Later- 

-Would be later.

          "Re-establish contact with Remis," he ordered again. 

_Too much time had been wasted already_ he thought.

A day ago, Lean-Luc Picard watched as a third Klingon battle fleet openly violated Romulan neutral zone territory.  The _Enterprise_ was in almost constant contact with Starfleet being kept apprised of the situation.  A large subspace energy pulse had been detected in the vicinity of the Romulan home world and then all communication and telemetry with the planet ceased. 

          The suspicion turned into fear as the Klingon fleet messages confirmed that Romulus had been sterilized.  The Cylon attack fleet reversed its retreat, and now was trying to swarm planet Remus.  The third Klingon fleet was due to intercept the remnants in four hours, enough to make a difference.

          Open reports of massive evacuations of Remis stunned everyone.  The Federation had received a direct communication from the Military Leader Tomalak that the Federation allow the evacuees to enter their space was unprecedented. 

          -And completely understood.

          The only escape route open lay towards Federation space and everyone including the Cylons understood this.  Starfleet was assembling a massive fleet to protect the convoy and more starships were entering the area by the moment.  But to evacuate ten billion people would be a most impossible task given the time that they calculated that had.  And then there was that obvious weapon used on the planet.  Geordie's speculation had been correct.  The object orbiting Katasi wasn't a transit generator of some type but a subspace accelerator of mass destruction.  If it fired again, no one knew who the target would be and that was completely and totally unacceptable.  It had to be stopped, neutralized. 

          Plans were already underway.

          "Captain, sir," Ensign Angaa, the communications officer said. "The _Galactica_ is hailing us." 

Picard thoughts shifted immediately. 

          "Onscreen." 

He and the bridge crew saw Commander Apollo and Captain Janeway were standing next to one another. 

          "Captain Picard, its good to see you," Apollo said.  "We've been attacked here by three Basestars.  We survived but a lot of people have been hurt and killed.  The system is secured, but it's only a temporary situation.  This is a defensive situation we can't win. But unless we can relieve the pressure, then it's a matter of time."

"They targeted the Galactica and _Voyager_ specifically, Captain," Janeway said. "They're using ships and material with complete abandonment."

          "How bad was the damage?" His heart was racing. If the Galactica had been damaged…

"We both got fried a little but we're okay for now," Apollo said, "But Wildfire is coming, ETA in seven hours."

          "Acknowledged, Commander. How are your father and your son?"

"My father was planet-side.  He is safe.  My son survived and is recovering from his injuries." 

          "Be aware that we may have to move before they get here.  Transports have been arriving for the last ten hours, but the window is closing.  The Klingons lost more than two-thirds of their first two fleets due to the 'incident' and the Romulans are on their last legs."

          "Understood."

          "I'll keep you informed, Picard out." 

          The abruptness of his actions had to do with a priority one transmission from Starfleet.  The Starfleet insignia flashed onto the large screen.  A female Starfleet admiral, Admiral Radok, looked him square in the eye. 

          "Captain Picard. You are to lead the elements of the assembled fleet to assist in all possible aid to help the evacuees escape to Federation space.  Be aware that additional Cylon activity has been detected vectoring on Remis.  If contact is imminent, you are to provide a holding action only in defense of the civilians.  Additional Starfleet and Klingon vessels will be arriving as soon as possible. Good luck."

The transmission went blank.

          "Mr. Angaa, inform the fleet that we are entering the neutral zone on Starfleet orders." 

The world of Remus, as of now, existed in a state of panic. The confirmation of the destruction Romulus was at first assumed to be lie.  A population, used to hearing only what their leaders needed to tell them, could barely comprehend their government telling them to in essence, 'uproot yourselves and run for their lives.'  They had no clue how to run, or where.   

          For generations they'd been told that their military could protect them from anything; that they were superior; that long after humans were extinct, and the Federation a distant memory the Romulan Star Empire would span this galaxy. Generations of servitude had promoted a weakness, a laxity that caused the majority of the population do only what was necessary and not draw unnecessary attention to ones self.  Now that same attitude created a confusion that slowed the evacuation process.

          Then the madness began. 

          As a whole, the Romulans had forsworn the ways of their ancestors of the planet Vulcan, the didn't look Vulcanoid, in fact genetic experimentation and environmental changes on the planet had en essence produced a subspecies that physically barely resembled their Romulan-based cousins.  But that didn't make them immune from the results of inherent telepathy.  The deaths of so many of their kind had made a profound impact. 

The most noticeable symptom was insanity. 

          Despite a quarter of the population suffering telepathic mass hysteria, the far majority experienced another emotion all together.  Mass panic. Hundreds of conscripted freighters, shuttles, starships, every vehicle that could reasonably fly had to be utilized to remove the people to safety but generations of ingrained, political red tape slowed down the process immeasurably.  By the end of six hours, one percent of the population had been evacuated, fleeing for the safety of Federation space.  The third Klingon fleet passed them, engaging close to a thousand Cylon _Raiders_ chasing the raggedy, fleeing mob of vessels. 

Supreme Commander Tomalak sighed with relief when he received confirmation that the Federation fleet was trailing the Klingon some nine hours behind.  A small part of him was galled that Picard was leading the fleet, but only a small part.  Picard was a good adversary and would be an equally powerful ally in the days to come.  The Outer Rim fleet was twelve hours away and pushing hard. 

          Twice, the Cylon probes had broken through the remains of his fleet, but for the first time, the attacks weren't merely to seek and destroy but designed more to reduce the opposition.  And it was working.  Only the presence of the Klingon warships defending and supporting the civilian evacuees had kept the pressure off of them.  Barely.  But that effectively blocked the fleet from adding their support in the actual defense of the home world.  Long-range scanners had detected four additional Basestars and support ships coming in and he remembered how he flew into that uncontrolled rage at hearing the news.  Again the Cylon ability for mass production would be the death of them all. 

          He was even considering opening relations with the Dominion, whom he was positive, would be next on the Cylon list.  And he knew that they knew it, too.  Their holdings in the Alpha quadrant would be jeopardized, as many of the worlds that elected to remain with the Dominion were humanoid-based worlds.  The only thing he understood about this insane war was that the Cylons seemed to enjoy the destruction. In fact, it seemed to be part of their programming.  His ship rocked again breaking him out of his dark musings.

          The sub-Commander, who now wore a perpetual frown, spoke quickly. 

          "Supreme Commander, they had broken through grid one-seven."

Tomalak jumped up. The tone of those words belied their importance. Four Warbirds had just succumbed to a massive attack that no one had anticipated and their left flank was wide open. 

          Hundreds of H-Ks and _Raiders_ followed, by two _Extreme_ Class Basestars proceeded to rip everything around them to shreds.

          Tomalak screamed as his entire defense network fell apart before his eyes.  The hole was too big to close and he didn't have any reserves close enough to plug the hole. Now there was no chance at all. 

The _Galactica_ moved slowly through the debris transporting the survivors-and the remains- into sickbay.  Small weapons control continually fired on Cylon bodies that survived initial destruction floating in the void.  Many of the Cylon _Raiders_ that survived were being viciously and ruthless hunted down by _Vipers_ and Colonial Destroyers.  Their intention was simple-that none of them escape. 

          Commander Apollo looked at the mess in the Laser Weapons Engineering.  Again the containment fields were insufficient to control the energies that the Aeriana crystal produced. 

          The damage to the containment area and the power generator was significant.   "So much for Federation technology," he murmured, looking at the mess.  At least it wasn't as bad as the first experiment.

          "Maybe we should terminate this experiment for another time," Captain Rigel suggested. 

"I don't think so," he said thinking about it.  "We almost have a handle on it.  We need a little more tweaking.  Besides-" he said, pointing to the wreckage outside of the bay window.  "We're going to need every advantage we have."

          "The new pilots did very well, I'll admit." 

          "Yes they did," she admitted.  "They need a little more training but they performed brilliantly.  I wish Starbuck had been here to see it.  Most of their more exotic techniques were his inventions."

          "He's going to have his hands full on the Pegasus," the Commander replied. He moved out of the way as two technicians removed a large console from the accumulator matrix.

          "Personally I love the force shields." She continued to smile at the thought. "Those things save a lot of lives, including your son."

          Boxey and his crew were transported into the Melbourne sickbay, a little fried but okay. 

          _Cobra_ One however was a lost cause.  Apollo had been terrified by the possible loss of his son and understood as never before how his father felt when Zack died and when he almost died so many times before.  It took strength to concentrate on the duties at hand.  The solar systems defensive profile needed to be re-organized. Reinforcements- and replacements- were coming. 

          This latest attack was as massive as the strike on the twelve Colony worlds so long ago.   "And we repelled it," he whispered.  "This time… This cannot be allowed to continue.  All we have to do is lose once." 

           I need to talk to my father Apollo decided. 

          "Continue our patrol," he ordered as he walked back towards the elevator that would take him back to the bridge.

Spectre of the _Poison Mist_, felt pleasure as its subordinate acknowledged the retreat of the vestiges of the Romulan defensive force. Indeed the retreat had been most efficient, hampering its efforts to slaughter them all.  But all of that changed with the confirmation of a transwarp conduit.  This was the reason why the retreat had turned into a rout. T he Borg had arrived and that arrival changed everything. 

A ship that defied conventional description, accompanied by a Borg class-two combat cube exited the conduit and accompanied by the fleet of Cylon Basestars settled in orbit over Remus.  Only then did the Borg choose to communicate with Cylon lord.

          "WE ARE THE BORG," the multitude of the united voices screamed through Communications.  There was no warmth in those voices.  In fact if nothing else, the unified Collective sounded even colder than usual, more mechanical in fact.  "CYBERNETIC SPECIES TWO-TWO-FOUR-ONE, WE HAVE COME TO DELIVER WHAT WE HAVE PROMISED."

          Spectre's response was sarcastic and equally as cold.     "Can we assume that you have finally assimilated that virus that Captain Janeway infected you with?"

          "INFECTION IS IRRELEVANT.  JANEWAY IS IRRELEVANT," the Borg continued, as though they didn't care about the virus that had almost destroyed them.  "WE HAVE COME TO FULFILL OUR PART OF THE BARGAIN.  DO NOT FIRE ON THE PLANET.  WE WILL USE IT TO SERVICE US."

          "We will do as our collective imperative commands us to do," Spectre retorted. "We will destroy this planet and the population as we have dictated we would do."

          "YOUR IMPERATIVES ARE IRRELEVANT."  Then the voices quieted slightly as though trying to maintain a venire of peaceful communication.  "IN THE INTEREST OF CO-OPERATION, THE IMPERIUM SUPREME HAS GIVEN THIS PLANET TO US.  PREPARE TO RECEIVE A TRANSMISSION."

          On the Bridge of the _Poison Mist_, a holographic image appeared suddenly enough for the Imperial gold guard to prime their weapons.  The enhanced cyborgs female smiled at Spectre as it walked around the bridge.  "Spectre of the _Poison Mist_.  I am the Borg."

          "I am humbled by your presence, Queen of the Borg," Spectre said most humbly. Its optical sensors register the image as a seductive cybernetic abomination.  "We had expected you at a later time, when we were busy exterminating the life form known as Man-and his genetic relatives.  Have you come to deliver the gift so soon?"

          The queen looked at it and the other Cylons again marveling at the technological improvements they and their ships had underwent.  Not for the first time did the Collective wish that they could assimilate the Cylon culture.  But that was, for now, impossible as the assimilation nanites were ineffective on Cylon programming, indeed to their very structure. 

          _Destroy them yes; bring them into the fold-no.  Not yet._

          "We have decided to grant the gift early, as you have done better than we have expected.  Soon your trials will be against the Federation and its allies and we are impatient.  Even now, _Locutus_ comes." 

          The seductively hideous queen lifted her head as though looking somewhere else. 

          "_Locutus_, can you hear my voice?  We can hear yours even now coming to meet us…"

          As the Collective was with the Queen, so was the Cylon commune joined with Spectre.  The consensus was that the Borg were becoming increasingly impatient and would soon be altering the term of the deal.  Neither side trusted the other but each had something the other wanted, but like all things nothing came easily.  Spectre understood this intimately.  So did the Queen.

          A padd materialized in her holographic hand. 

          "This is the technological specifications for the Quantum slipstream Drive units," she said sweetly, like oil oozing into cracks.

          "The children of V'Ger are ours.  The great Machine culture that created them, are yours to join with as you will.  We will each in our own way, achieve perfection." 

          "As we have given you this gift," she continued watching almost innocently as a Golden Warrior retrieved it.  "We-request that you give Remus to us.  We want the people only.  We have no desire to maintain a presence here.  We have other pursuits."

          The Cylon collective understood that to mean that the Borg were striving to rebuild their damaged society, most likely better and stronger than before.  Soon the Empire may not be needed.  Time was in short supply.  The consensus: keep the peace as long as possible.  Then kill them all when they achieved the power to do so. 

          And that would come by obtaining the V'Ger children, products of a joined Decker, V'Ger and Illia synthezoid.  The result was an absolute blend of organic and technological perfection-a new life form; everything that the Borg ascribed to.  And these new entities were the ultimate key to finding and communicating with their creators, a machine culture so advanced that those who encountered it had not true words to describe it. That was true power for that which would grasp it.

          "You may have Remus with our compliments," Spectre intoned. 

          Over the communications console they heard the one voice that was many, directed towards a panicked, doomed society.

"WE ARE THE BORG. YOUR EXISTENCE AS YOU HAVE KNOWN IT WILL NOW CEASE.  WE WILL ADD YOUR BIOLOGICAL AND TECHNOLOGICAL UNIQUENESS TO OUR COLLECTIVE.  YOU WILL SERVICE US.  RESISTANCE IS FUTILE."

The queen smiled once more and looked away as her image faded away. 

On Remis, the suicides began.


	8. It's all coming togetherIt's all falling...

**_CHAPTER SEVEN-_** **IT'S ALL COMING TOGETHER- IT'S ALL FALLING APART**

Commander Deanna Troi-Riker swooned, almost falling out of her chair as the onslaught of emotions hit her like a small mountain.  Thousands were dying and thousands more were, for lack of a better word 'life essences' were disappearing, moment-by-moment.  The brutality of the destruction of Romulus was bad enough but this trickling, this wasting of life was almost too much to bear.  She also felt the vileness of the Cylons and the joy they had fulfilling their programming.  Every since she began detecting them at Katasi, her senses had sharpened considerably.  She suspected that her constant exposure to Data's artificial emotions, in her brain, the neural pathways had begun to restructure themselves to detect emotional patterns from other non-living beings.  As a defensive measure, she slammed shut her emphatic shields so tightly that she felt nothing outside the ship.  This wasn't the time to faint-and she wasn't a fainter-it was time to fight. 

          The _Enterprise-E_ shuddered as anti-proton beams crashed into its forward shields. The massive _Extreme_ Basestar had targeted the ship almost an hour earlier and hadn't let up since. 

          At any given opportunity, it fired on the Federation ship ignoring all other targets of opportunity.  The _Enterprise_ returned fire with its phasers and iso-mag disintegrators tearing through its already weakened shields and carving large chunks out of the Basestar that insisted upon attacking her.  Several other starships, being ignored by the Cylon battleship, were in support of the _Sovereign_ warship and when the _Enterprise_ finally fully committed to the attack, together they cut the _Extreme_ into pieces.  Quickly the group continued their retreat to the Federation neutral zone.

          Several hours ago, Deanna had experienced Tomalak's rage and hatred towards the Cylons and then the Borg as they carved the defenses, then the planet itself like a roast as he had almost begged for help.  When the Borg ship had appeared in Romulus airspace, there was nothing that he nor the battle-damaged remnant fleet of Klingon and Romulan war ships could do.  They were hopelessly outmatched and the Rim fleet would only serve to be a wasted sacrifice against such terrible odds.  The Cylons had more ships than he believed possible chasing the refugees and defense fleet, determined to kill every last one of them.  Tomalak had assumed that the robots would remain near the planet for a time, allowing the refugees to escape, however, they had chosen to give chase with everything they had even as the Borg began the assimilation of his world.

She and the bridge crews watched in helpless fury as swarms of warp-capable _Raiders_ and Hunter Killers, along with something new- a warship about the size of a D_efiant_ class vessel- a destroyer group weaving throughout the fleeing refugee ships and warships butchering anything they could.  She had never felt such pure hatred among the crew.  The surviving Romulan and Klingon squadrons were fighting for all they were worth, but they were trapped in a precarious position.  By fighting a running war and protecting the helpless freighters and refugee carriers, coordination was hazard at best, and they didn't dare make a stand as at least seven Basestars were right on their tail with another twelve less than an hour away.  

Captain Picard had ordered the Federation transport ships to move to the distant rear as his battle group of fifty-five starships finally engaged the attacking Cylons.  Picard a veteran of the Dominion wars ordered the attack in two waves, which effectively broke the Cylon wedge squeezing the fleeing ships. 

          "Captain. Evasive now!" Deanna had screamed. He didn't think. He made it so. 

The _Enterprise_ shields were grazed by weapons fire from an _Extreme_.  How she knew of the attack, he was as yet unaware but he was more than thankful for it.  That was the beginnings of an hour long battle against a ship twelve times its size that finally ended in the _Extremes_ destruction.  Its single-minded focus on the _Enterprise_ had made it venerable.

          Everything that Picard ordered had to be based upon his gut intuition, by feeling the flow and ebb of battle, estimating the enemy's strength, all while protecting the innocent.  The same enemy who would not hesitate to destroy him and everything he valued.  He hated every bit of it.  It was making him cold, hardened.  He was fighting an enemy that wasn't by definition alive, allied with the Borg, for Mankind's very survival. But it also became a focus for him. 

          Now, he was no longer seeing the Romulans as the enemy, but as another group of people desperately seeking help. 

He barely noticed the _Raiders_ and H-K hunter killers-or using the correct Colonial terminology; Hunt and Terminate kill craft- were avoiding his ship and the other larger Federation craft in favor of something that wouldn't produce unacceptable causalities. The Basestars on the other hand were his main concern.  With the exception of the _Extreme_ that had just been destroyed, the Cylon heavy hitters were designed more as planetary bombardment-weapon's platforms, with their heaviest beam weapons requiring a power-up of three seconds before activating which was more than enough time for the fast moving and smaller Federation, Klingon and Romulans vessels to get out of the way. 

But the Cylon Destroyers were a nasty addition to the medley and those were the ships specifically designed to counter the larger starships, leaving the less maneuverable Basestars to lend their considerable backup and support to the rest. 

          They were something to be dealt with in the future.  Right now his responsibility was to get the refugees into Federation space and that would not happen unless they had help. Even his fleet wasn't enough to stem the onslaught, and even now Starfleet was preparing.

Three hours into the Romulan neutral zone, two massive Klingon battle groups twelve thousand kilicams distant were waiting for the besieged ships to come into range. Each group consisted of fourteen ships whose purpose was to support the fifteenth- the Negh'Var, flagship of the Klingon fleet and it's sister the Nah'Chuk, Klingon battleships. These were two of the largest warships available to any of the three government fleets and each contained unparalleled firepower.  Each sported huge twin disrupter cannons sufficient to stop anything in its tracks. 

          Although the beam arc radius was limited, anything within range was fair game. Combined with massive armor and shielding, secondary disrupters for defense and support ships, it was presently by Starfleet accounts, the ultimate in Klingon stand-off-and-deliver weapons platforms.  The ships were fast although not very maneuverable and appeared to be the effective against planetary and orbital placements.  The Negh'Var had survived the Dominion war and even overwhelmed the _Deep Space Nine_ during the Federation-Klingon dispute, for a time.  It could easily hold its own against the _Hellions _but now the _Extremes _were coming into range, by-passing the others to get a crack at the top-of-the-line Warships.

          Klingon Battleships and Cylon _Extremes_ began trading long ranged, hi-intensity shots at one another.  Shields on both sides flared brightly as they continued moving closer to one another. 

          Onboard the Negh'Var, the crew was still in awe at the unprecedented sight of Chancellor Martok and Kahless, standing next to one another watching the battle as it progressed. 

Normally each avoided the other, political and social differences usually kept them on opposite sides, but not here and not now, with the threat of extermination on the horizon as the destruction of a large piece of the Romulan Empire had so clearly shown. 

          Chancellor Martok of the one eye, had been thrust into power by Worf former security officer of the _Enterprise-D_ and later part of the staff of _Deep Space_ Nine and in revenge for this 'honor' he made Worf an Ambassador.  In fact he enjoyed the post, bringing much needed stability and reforms to the Empire.  Even the attempted assassination plots had dwindled in the recent years as the Empire began to prosper once more.

          Kahless, a cloned image of what certain historians thought he should be, stood smiling at the power erupting at his feet towards the enemy.  He was the moral center of the Empire now. 

          The children were following in his example now, and it clearly showed by the improvement of relations to just about all of governments they now associated with.  That alone justified his existence, although at night he would dream dreams.  He never remembered them or so he said and the doctors attributed them to 'genetic memory'-nothing to worry about.  But the dreams did come and in them he experienced carnage and destruction on an epic scale.  He dreamed of the animal in him, destroying everything in his path to glory.  Honor was in the winning and winning the only thing that guaranteed the path to power.  He dreamed of physical features that reminded him more of the humans than true Klingons.  He dreamed of his great grand father, telling him how he and his brothers killed the Goul'kids snake gods and their Karffea slaves that possessed the bodies of the unworthy, giving them unnatural strength and power.   And how his people screamed and raged as they threw the 'wheel of heavens water' into the bowels of an active volcano.   Then, he would awaken sweating and occasionally screaming at the dark as dreams and reality collided.  Then reality dominated even if it did appear to have shifted from what was to what is.  Yet the dreams were terrifying and exhilarating but like so many other things it did not control him. He was the moral center and would continue to be so.  This time was his and he was more than willing to share it with his fellow warriors.  He grunted slightly as Klingon disrupter cannon fire smashed into an _Extreme_, causing its shield to buckle. The ship was in turn bounced savagely by the _Extreme's_ counter fire, which was almost equal in strength.

          "Most impressive," Kahless said hunching over tactical.  "Effective range, one point two light seconds accuracy.  Their bloodlust is worthy of battle."

          "We battle for honor and survival. But this war is something new," Martok answered.  "The enemy has an extinction agenda.  And we will never allow our dead to remain un-avenged.  Evasive!"

          The ship turned slowly enough to miss being hit by combined strike.  The ship returned fire itself missing its target.  As it fired a battery of torpedoes, the first of close to almost a thousand Romulan refugee ships of all descriptions, passed by, seeking the safely of the Federation border.  There was no organization to them, simply a mob trying to get away.  One ship, 'his captain obviously a fool' Kahless assumed, flew too close to the shields of the Nah'Chuk, slamming into them, destroying the small vessel in the process.  
          "Order our escorts to destroy the Cylon small craft and support the warships," Martok said.  "Began the retreat," he ordered.  The crew scrambled to him and the ships began to reverse all the while firing and maintaining the distance from the oncoming Basestars bearing down upon them.  Even now they were in the middle of the running firefight.  
          "Kahless," Martok said. "There was a time not long ago that I believed that our greatest war would have been fought against the Federation.  Then came our own civil war, then we did fight the Federation, then the Borg invading our territories, then the Dominion and now this."  He and Kahless grunted in pleasure as two _Raiders_ were ambushed by a Bird-of-prey.  "I have hand enough glory for two lifetimes."  
          "And now we help our enemies, both of them," Kahless answered slowly.  "You are correct.  This is a glorious time to live and fight."  
  
          "The Federation is not our enemy," Martok countered.   "We are more alike than we believe.   There may come a time when human and Klingon together will become one vast power."  
          Both warriors laughed heartily.  "The good thing is that we won't be alive long enough to see it!  Maybe our children, but for now…"  
         The bulk of the ships had now passed and the Klingon behemoths were running rear guard.  Five Basestars fired long-range missiles and the Negh'Var's shields dropped fifty percent.  Immediately the bulk of the Klingon fleet and several Federation heavy warships turned and swarmed the enemy vessels, which veered off violently. T he combined fleet then regrouped quickly and again sped quickly towards safety.  The Basestars regrouped also, now re- enforced with three of the closest support Basestars and gave chase again.  It was crystal clear that they intended to pursue this matter until the end.  
          Both Klingons smiled even as their ship was rocked again.  This War was truly glorious, simple and to the point. It was going well.  
  


The Battlestar _Pegasus_ and its Wildfire Squadron, consisting of a half dozen Federation S_teamrunne_r, _Sabers _and two _Excelsior_-Starships and, an equal number of Klingon Bird-of-preys, with two _Vor'cha_ cruisers, and Colonial _Adders_, de-cloaked behind the _Hellions_ and _Extremes_ to their completed surprise.  
         -And fired point blank into their ranks. Three Basestars disappeared in the conflagration and three more were more damaged beyond their ability to self-repair.  
         "Commander Sheba, all ships have fired," the female Klingon tactical officer yelled. "Success, The pat'cha run!"  
          Sheba's thin smile served only to make the woman smile broader.  Her President and her husband's insistence on mixing the crew had mixed results.   But without a doubt it seemed to be work.  Oh, there were a few times when she thought it world be better to go to the Gamma quadrant and start a life there.  Klingons didn't work well with humans she found out- unless you tried to beat the crap out of them.  Then they started liking you.  But there was no denying that they fought well.  The challenge had been learning how to work together with them and the Federation.  This was their first real test.  
         So far, so good.  
         Commanders Starbuck and Bojay were off to the side directing the light attack ships, which now ran interference against the returning _Raiders_, Hunter-Killers and the new Cylon destroyers that abandoned their attacks on the refugee vessels and returned to deal with this new threat.  Starbuck's concentration was so complete that he might as well have been out them with them.  His squadron attacked as a group while Bojay directed the second wing in support of Starbuck's initial wave.  
         The _Pegasus_ along with its own attack wing went directly at the three damaged ships.  Her powerful Klingon-based quad disruptors ripped into them along with the added firepower of the Federation Starships and the new plasma based disruptor beams from the Klingon Cruisers obliterated all traces of the doomed ships.  To the Cylons it was clear that the threat was the updated _Pegasus_.  It had been turned into a Cylon Killer, pure and simple.  It's energy weapons sliced through shielding and modified armor with an ease not thought possible.  Their shielding frequency had been somehow compromised and in essence they were defenseless.  The _Extremes_ responded with a vengeance but were forced to beak off almost immediately as the returning Alpha combine came into range.  
  
        "Well done daughter," Cain said. The man had been twitching during the entire operation but to his credit he never said a word unless asked.  He almost suffered a stroke with the effort but he remained in control-until now.  "You can finish them all off easily while we have them disorganized." His eyed now blazed with the anticipation of the battle to follow.  
         "No," she said quickly, ignoring his surprised, then disappointed face.  "We were lucky and we have the people to escort to safety.  I'm ordering us to re-cloak.  They won't chance chasing the fleet for a while, not with the threat of Wildfire hitting them again."  
         "There's too many.  We need to cut down on some of them, keep them disorganized until we can strike back in force."  
         That's not the plan, father," Sheba retorted, trying desperately to keep the tension out of her voice.   "We're escorting, just as we did so long ago."  
         "Of course, of course," he muttered.  He began twitching once more, but he said nothing.  She was correct but his blood was burning for another fight with the ancient enemy now that he was in his prime.  He knew he was going to have to get an active command soon or he'd go crazy.  "You're right in your assessment, Commander."  
         Sheba nodded as she sighed in relief.  He hadn't blown up yet.  But they were going to have to do something soon.  
  
  


         Nine billion survivors on the planet Remus panicked, fought back and killed themselves. 

          Their military had abandoned them, not by choice but by necessity.  But that didn't matter to her.  It had been a waste to lose the population of Romulus.  Drones were sorely needed and supplies were getting hard to find.  The Delta quadrant was vast but as with any good conservationist, she and her sisters had no intention of draining it completely, especially not now when everything was coming so close to fruition.  The Cylon had kept their promise and gave them Remus.  Already the collections cubes had exited transwarp space and had begun processing the new drones.  As usual, many were injured and minor repairs would be implemented before the drones would become fully functionally.  Unimatrix One needed rebuilding.  The future was beckoning.  The time of the child was coming soon and when the children were fully assimilated the Borg, and then this galaxy, would achieve the perfection that had been denied them for so long. 

          As assimilation proceeded, the Borg Queen looked on in dismay.  The biggest problem the Collective had was time.  There were many on this planet that were unworthy of assimilation and would thus be ignored by her drones.  But already the maturation pods were filled and tens of millions had been already collected in transporter stasis-people and materials stored as energy patterns for long periods of travel-to be processed at a more convenient time.  Ten percent would be lost but that was irreverent as time was of the essence.  With the materials available it was calculated that only seven billion would be liberated.

          On hundreds of worlds, it was always the same.  Beings protested their ascension to perfection.  They never understood what was best for them until they became part of the Collective.  Then they came to understand the gloriousness of it all and the ultimate purpose. 

          The perfect blend of machine and organic represented the absolute pinnacle of evolution.  The children were the templates of perfection, but they were individuals, and they had fought the Borg bitterly.

The Cylons, in their floating star bases were another matter entirely.  Assimilation was not possible.  Their programming defied Borg nano-technology and so far the Borg had not found a way to overcome this problem.  At this time, the Cylons were needed to complete their task of securing the children, but the instant that was achieved, she had determined that the Imperium would be utterly destroyed.  They could never be allowed to complete their own evolution.  If they did then the resultant war between the two powers would devastate everything in this galaxy and beyond.  Even the Collective was divided on this matter-destruction of an enemy and the loss opportunity to acquire the Children, or a future fight between a perfected Borg and an ultimate machine race. 

Even here, there was the possibility that the Cylons would again use their subspace weapon and destroy valuable Borg resources.  The issue of trust was very fleeting.  She preferred to finish her work and leave as soon as possible. 

          "Increase the collection rate," she commanded.

          The Borg were everywhere, infecting anyone they came in contact with.  Those fortunate enough to watch while fleeing saw entire crowds-tens of thousands-disappear as Borg transporters carried them away to their fate.  The entire planet convulsed as the huge cubes mass and graviton units affected the planet's gravity.  The seas were ripped out of their eons-old beds as the Borg sifted for hidden treasures beneath them.  Entire mountains were vaporized as the Borg located and assimilated secret bases once thought safe from the attacks.

          In the small township of Glisic, hundreds of Remans huddled inside a small gathering center in the desperate and futile hopes that death would pass them by.  As with the planet Romulus, the Senate had forbid weapons on Remis, and the result was that they were helpless. 

          Knives and makeshift lasers were no match for the Borg.  For days millions have been fleeing the nearby city, flooding the countryside in their panicked search for escape. Like the Borg, the dead were everywhere. 

          Surprisingly after three days, the Borg cubes left.  But now something worse had come to take their place. 

          The Cylons were here to finish what they had begun.  Of the one billion or so that remained, most died immediately as the _Hellions_ and _Extremes_ bathed the planet with their neutron disrupters for six hours, standard procedure.  By the end of this there were few things living. 

          The Cylons transported to the scorched surface and began hunting down the survivors. 

Hundreds of thousands were slain-beheaded in an orgy of slaying-by centurions of all descriptions.  It was their intention to keep their promise, to eliminate the life form known as Romulans.  What the Borg didn't take, they would slay.

The entity called Iblis watched in anticipation and amusement as his children slew every being they could.  The ruination imperatives demanded the flow of blood.

          The dark being traversed the planet occasionally stopping a beheading as it suited him.   So far, three had been saved for the simple reason that they, in their own darkness, reminded him of himself.  They would be useful for the times to come.  Those he transferred to the small town of Glisic. 

He materialized suddenly into huddled masses.  The suddenness of his appearance terrified the people, several of whom attacked him; he shrugged off the attacks easily, leaving his victims cowering in the far corner.  He allowed himself to glow slightly to capture their attention. 

          They were dirty, and hungry each possessing raw emotions ranging from fear to acceptance of their fates. 

          He was dressed in a gold and white, long flowing robe that was flittering royally even though there was no wind.  His facial features were vulcanoid, blended with the unique appearance of the Remus population.  His ears were unusually longer and more pointed.  His eyes blazed with power.

          A thirty-something year old female tentatively moved towards him as her curiosity overcame her terror. 

          "Who are you?"

          "I am your savior," he whispered, loud enough for the whole world to hear.  "Come with me.  Follow me of your own free will and I will give you joy and power beyond your wildest imaginations."

          The woman, completely awed by Iblis' presence, moved closer.  The power that emanated from this being was unmistakable. 

"Will you save our world?"

          "The world is doomed," he said.  "I cannot save it, because to do so would upset the balance.  But I can save you, if that is what you want."

          "What do you mean, upset the balance?" another woman asked.

"What has happened here was for ordained before the beginning of the universe. Only a few would escape the universe's wrath.  I am that doorway to safety." 

          He smiled graciously as the fugitives began to warm to him.   And many did see him in the light he'd projected. 

          -But not all.

          One of the men that had been knocked about confronted him.  There was enough suspicion etched across his face that Iblis knew simple words would never dissuade him.

          "You are not what you appear to be," the man snarled.  As he moved through the crowd, the entity relaxed and became seemingly more passive.  "You're offering slavery, not freedom.  You seek to take advantage of us."

          "There is no US," Iblis corrected.  "Only YOU."  His eyes blazed slight as he continued to speak.  "I offer a choice to escape the wrath of the Cylon storm following you.  I will not force anyone who does not wish to be saved to come with me."  He looked closer at the man reading him as one would read a book.  "You were a centurion, pledged to give your life for your people were you not?"

          The man became defensive.  No one was supposed to know this. 

"What of it?  It does not change anything.  You are an alien trying to take advantage of us," he repeated.  "You make yourself to be our savior.  Why do you want us?  Do you want us to bow down and worship you as though you were some type of god?"

Iblis laughed pleasantly. 

          "Freedom of choice is the greatest gift of all.  I cannot force you to do anything and I cannot take you against your will." He laughed again.  "There is no God, not by your comprehension.  There is only me.  Come with me and live. 

          As he spoke, two Cylon _Raiders_ came in screaming intent upon destroying the roads leading to safety and remaining refuge.  Suddenly both thunderously exploded into vapor the instant Iblis clapped his hands.  Many of the people who witnessed the miracle suddenly revised their initial impressions of him.  Most were now in awe of him and he soaked up the praise that ensued. 

          He was rudely interrupted by a hysterical scream by some child staring out of a window. 

Another scream was heard by the image of golden and silver streaks running towards the townships with enough speed to generate dust trails.  There were hundreds of trails converging on them.  There was a vicious firefight just outside the town where others attempted to make a stand.  Within two minutes the fighting had ceased and the dust trails again closed in on the doomed town. 

          "Chose quickly," Iblis whispered to all of those present. 

Over ninety percent gathered around him.  He smiled again and lifting his arms, the multitude faded away.  His demeanor changed, became darker, far more menacing. His face changed into something repulsively beautiful to those that remained. 

          The Remian centurion covered his eyes at the dark beauty facing him. 

          "Devil," he screamed. 

          Both the Romulans and their Remus cousins understood and remembered the dark forces that their ancestors had whispered of in the distant past.  Most of those stories were attributed to superstition or possible alien in origin.  However what faced him was something else. 

"Soul taker," he said before he realized it. 

          All of his atheism had vanished seconds ago.  He was a believer now.

          "You and the others made your choice," Iblis said smiling again.  "The Devil takes his leave," he laughed, fading away,  slowly leaving only his eyes and grin behind to flicker out a moment later.

A moment's hesitation- and despair- and the centurions and the rest made their final stand as the splintered opened revealing a dual eyed monster and two seven foot silver Cylon warriors behind it carrying short swords.

          "By the command," the three said simultaneously before rushing in.

**_DEEP SPACE TWENTY-THREE_****: ****THREE DAYS AFTER THE FALL OF THE TWIN WORLDS:**

Ambassador Spock watched without a trace of emotion as an ever-increasing number of Romulan refugees crowded the main docking area completely fearful of the narrowed eyed Federation security guards keeping a close eye on their every move.  Most were bleary-eyed and dirty, fearful of the new surroundings and ever mindful of the fact that they were in a Starfleet installation, the very place that their own government condemned generation after generation as the greatest enemy the Romulan people ever faced.  They were the few; all that were left of the People of the Twin Worlds.  Hundreds of Romulan vessels of all sizes waited within range of the station, preparing to go somewhere anywhere to escape the slaughter.  The remains of the Romulan fleet huddled close to the ragtag convoy of ships, prepared to fight to the last against darkness of the Cylon Imperium.  The Battlestar _Pegasus_ and its Wildfire squad towered over them all ready and willing to take on anyone that would dare harass these people. 

          And the battalion of ironies did not escape any of those present to witness the event.

          Spock said nothing as the blond-haired woman walked up and stood by him.  He could feel her hatred of him emulating from her, but he still remained passive.  He was Vulcan and in control of his emotions.  He was human and thus understood the value of emotions.  After close to a hundred fifty years of living-and dying-and living he had finally achieved a true balance that he could live with.  The woman next to him, a product of human mother and Romulan father, never had the luxuries or friends that he had been honored with.  She was as much a product of her life as he was a product of his.

          "Spock," Sela said with her usual venom.  His very name was spat out like a curse.  "I guess you win again.  Unification will occur with the Federation and Vulcan, but not as either one of us quite planned.  You must be so happy that the Federation has won.  Oh, I forgot," she hissed.  "Vulcans don't have emotions do they?"

          "Sela, I grieve for your people." Spock announced his voice cracking.  "A small portion of your people has been saved.  But it is only a temporary situation, at best.  If the Cylons and their allies decide to attack, there will be no Vulcan, indeed no Federation for you to rant and rave against.  It is time to place our petty differences aside and stop those that would attempt to destroy us."

"Why didn't you tell us that the Borg were allied with the Cylons?" she hissed again, her hatred threatening to broil over.

          "It was only report, an unsubstantiated rumor from a, at best, dubious source," he said quietly.  "Your people knew of the Katasi construct months ago, yet you said nothing.  But you did not care even when your people knew the true purpose of the device to inform the Federation of the danger.  You could have but again you said nothing.  The _Enterprise_ had to obtain the information independently of the Romulan Empire."

          Spock watched as Sela's eyes narrowed at the word _Enterprise_.  She hated that ship almost as much as she hated Spock.  Her run-ins with the crew of the _Enterprise_ were as legendary as her failures.  Her creditability was completely macerated-until this latest war.  Sela had worked her back up the chain of command and now, this.  To her credit she kept her mouth shut.

          The fall of the twin worlds Romulus and Remus had come as a devastating shock to her and everyone who had heard of the news.  Romulus was now a barren, dried radioactive wasteland, the result of being exposed to enough radiation to fry the atmosphere and their small seas twenty times over.  As horrific as that was, the fate of Remus was probably worse. T he Borg had come after the devastation of the Romulan defense fleet by the Cylons.  The planetary batteries were battered into submission within hours by an unceasing hail of anti-proton beams.  Then the Cylon war fleet watched as several ten kilometer long 'factory' cubes exited transwarp and proceeded to orbit the planet, transporting thousands upon thousands of Romulans into their processing areas to be assimilated.  By this time it was clear that the Borg chose to relocate their victims rather that simply convert the planet itself.  Hundreds of thousands of her people chose to commit suicide rather than submit to the oncoming terror. 

Before Sela and what was left of the defense fleet had moved out of scanner range, they had counted at least ten of the monstrous ships orbiting the planet.  Millions had undergone the beginning of the dreaded process, millions who were taken away to continue to live a life worse than death.  Indeed, even death was irrelevant. 

          The Rim fleet, despite their reluctance, complied with the order to turn back, not to engage in a fight they could never win.  Instead they retreated back to the edge of the Empire, to gather and prepare their own defenses as they could.  Spock knew that they would fail if the Federation and its allies didn't stop the robotic race soon. 

          Spock dressed in traditional Vulcan robes moved easily through the throngs, despite his age, while his Romulan shadow followed behind closely.  Despite her new standing, third-in-command-of-what-was-left-of-the-defense-fleet, he knew that she felt uncomfortable on this Starfleet station.  It wasn't that she was afraid as much as the feeling of helplessness in the situation dealt her and her people.  It had been proven to her beyond a shadow of a doubt what so many philosophers from all over the galaxy had said time and again; power is realized to be only illusion when take away.  That which does not exist is unreal.  Now she and her people were dependent upon the mercy of those they hated most. 

          He allowed himself an instant's pity.

          As he and his despondent ally approached the diplomatic corridor they were met by two guards who ushered them into a small room filled with representatives of Starfleet and the Colonial-Mariposa colony.  Captains Janeway and Riker, she recognized. Then, there were the others.  Sela hissed slightly as she caught sight of the focus of her hatred. 

          The man returned her glare with a mixture of sadness and fierce determination.

          Spock slowly placed himself between her and the white haired Adama.

The fury in the woman's eyes was unmistakable as she literally hissed at him.  For a moment, Adama felt as though his heart would break.  All of his nightmares had come true and he felt responsible for yet another civilization succumbing to the horrors of the Cylons.  Instead of backing away however, he moved towards her, something she hadn't expected. 

          "I am sorry," he said simply.

          "President Adama," she answered, his very name coming out as a curse.  "The leader of the Battlestar _Galactica_," she continued.  "Savior of the Twelve Colonies, the farsighted one who led his people to Earth, the so-called thirteenth colony.  How does it feel to know that your actions have led to the destruction of my worlds, something that your earth brethren have failed to do in the last two hundred years?"

          Adama refused to be baited by such an obvious trap. 

          "The Colonial did not destroy your worlds, but our enemies did. If we had been aware that the Cylon, would be transformed as they have been, we would not have taken the direction we did."

          Sire Forsen broke into the tense conversation. 

"Commander," he started. "The fact is we're here.  Your people have suffered as greatly as ours have but unlike you, we would have helped your people.  Make no mistake, I've studied your Empire and I know that if you had found our fleet first we wouldn't be having this conversation now."

          "War," he continued, "is indifferent.  We have an enemy more ruthless than the Dominion, prepared, able and willing to wipe out everyone and here you stand trying to assign blame like some child."

          "A child?" She couldn't believe what she'd just heard. "My people are being assimilated by the Borg, being killed by the Cylons.  Our civilization is being destroyed and you're lecturing me about blame?  Humans!  So arrogant!"

          "Calm yourself," Spock said slowly.  "Your constant bursts of illogic are in no way beneficial to the meeting at hand.  You are here to learn why things are the way they are."

"Illogic! I hate Vulcans! I hate humans!" she screamed impotently. 

"Your hatred has always been your weakness," Spock replied emotionlessly. "Are you not curious as to why you are here at this meeting?"

          Silence.

She sat arrogantly and looked around at everyone. 

"Well?"

Captain Janeway sat next to President Adama, touched a PADD, which caused a three-dimensional image of a silver Cylon centurion to appear.

          "This is a Cylon centurion," she began, "the way they used to be.  In this form, they would not have presented us with the grief they have now.  Notice the primitive state the obsolete technology. Now, take a look at this upgraded Cylon," she said touching the PADD once more, which showed a modified Cylon warrior.  "This transfiguration is the result of exposure to modified T'kon engineering."

          Sela's eyes lit up in understanding, but said nothing. 

"When the Colonial fleet passed the remnants of the T'kon, a signal was transmitted which attracted the Cylons to a sort of service station which reconstructed the entire species.  Once this upgrade was completed then the second phase was initiated."

          "Initiated what?  By whom?"

          "Count Iblis," came the answer. 

          She watched as shock rippled throughout the Colonial representatives.

          "Who is this Count Iblis?" Sela asked. If he was one responsible for all of this-

          "I will explain the what of him shortly," Adama said.  "But first you must understand what is happening." 

          He looked at Janeway.  She nodded briefly and continued.

          "The Cylon Empire as we know it, is fulfilling a directive programmed into them close to a thousand years ago, called the ruination imperatives by this same Count Iblis. Its purpose was simple; subjugate and or destroy anything that did not conform to their expectations.  The imperatives were first activated during the time of the first Cylon war, in which their servants, these robots, exterminated their creators.  When the Colonials went to war with the Cylons, the imperatives were not reactivated but the directives were still in effect, which is the reason why there could never be a peace settlement between the two of them and it's also the reason why the Cylons persistently pursued them throughout the galaxy all these years."

          "Now, Count Iblis is, for a lack of a better definition, a higher entity much like the Q, or the Organians.   He has paraded himself as a benevolent being to many, many races.  However, the best way to describe him would be to identify him as a trickster, a Lord of lies, a devil if you will with the power to back it up.  He originates from a race called the Del Fray or Seraphs, who for the most part have kept him in line.  Being under their control he has been kept on a tight leash.  However…"

          "However," Sela surmised. "He found a way around the restrictions."

          "Exactly," Janeway finished.  "He is not permitted to use his powers directly unless one give themselves over to him of their own free will.  He then has possession of that person or persons."

          Adama spoke up now. His voice was strong and one could hear the distaste in his voice as he spoke. 

          "He tried to destroy my people and almost succeeded.  He used his voice as the template for the Imperium Supreme.  He is arrogant and over-confident.  He is not a fool by any means but he does have a weakness, which brings us to the point of this war." 

          He was about to continue when a disembodied voice blocked his own voice out.

"This entire war has been created for one purpose only," a voice said. 

A flash occurred and Q was sitting between Sela and Spock's.  Several people jumped out of their seats, including Sire Uri who moved quite spryly for an old man.  He was dressed in Colonial presidential robes with Starfleet admiral's pips attached to the neck collar. 

          "Iblis wants followers.  Devotees with whom he can play with."  His voice became deadly serious.  "This war is just the beginning.  The Cylons, his children, intend to destroy as many of you as they can.  He believes that either way this slaughter ends, he'll win."

          He continued his explanation to a rapped audience. 

          "If the Cylons win, then the resulting chaos will win him thousands of followers, survivors of the war who will trade their very souls for the salvation he wants to bring. On the other hand, if his children lose, there will be so much misery that millions of survivors will flock to his cause.  But that in itself is minor."

"Minor?" Sire Forsen yelled echoing Sela and Riker.  "You're talking," Forsen continued, "about the death of billions upon billions of beings so that Iblis can have few slaves to do his bidding!  The creature is insane, but your callousness about the entire situation is even worse!"

          Q popped up next to him, literally eyeball to eyeball. 

          "Please," he said coldly, his voice full of indifference. "You people have been butchering yourselves ever since you got kick out of that garden."

          "I don't understand," Forsen said, confused by Q's words.

          "Billions? Tens of billions would be a better estimate," Q said ignoring the man's confusion.  "And that's just the beginning." 

          He looked over at Sela and the next moment he was seated next to her while Spock had been transported to another chair on the opposite side of the room. Characteristically, one eyebrow rose up as he murmured the word 'fascinating'. 

          "You look so much like your mother, you know."  He said to her. "A little less exciting, but one can't have everything can we?"

          For a moment, Q believed that Sela was about to hit him but she resisted the impulse. 

"Good for you," he whispered, so softly that only she heard him.   "It would be a shame for me to have to explain exactly to whom you are dealing with.  Your existence is a flunk, a mistake of nature, and an oversight of a temporal cold war you know little to nothing about.  The _Enterprise-C_ was pulled into the present and splintered reality.  They were destroyed- and they were lost, depending upon your understanding of reality and temporal physics, and you were born to Tasha.  She is dead-but she's not.  You could have learned so much about her, you know.   If you want, I could transport you to where her counterpart is right now.   That Tasha is in another universe, mixing it up with the humans and the dark Shadows of that reality.   Let me know if you want to participate in that one-way trip.   All you have to do is ask.   Besides, all your plans, the Remans, all of it, is over.  Your carefully laid campaign has gone to waste.  Your Nemesis is lost to you." 

He smiled deviously as the greenish blood drained from her face.  Ignoring her now, he continued with the main thrust of the conversation.

"As I told Katie here," he laughed, watching Janeway snarl at him, "and as you may have noticed, your friends the Borg are in league with the Cylon Empire. This in itself is highly unusual as the Collective is into collecting, not associating.  But the Cylons have access to something that the Borg wants.  The children."

          "What children?" Spock asked. 

          "I'm glad you asked that question Mr. Ambassador Spock.  Love the gray hair by the way," he added.  "That's the reason why you're here.  Several score by your reckoning of course, or should I say one hundred seven years ago, the year was twenty two seventy one and Earth was visited by a certain probe-which was?"

          Suddenly, Spock understood why he was here. Everything fell into place. 

"V'Ger, or Voyager six." 

"Right on the first try, Spocky boy. That little _Voyager_, not yours Kate, fell into what was once called a black hole.  Actually it was more of a wormhole, which led to the other side of the universe.  Now, in the vastness of space in the galaxy, called by the inhabitants of the Alpha quadrant the Milky Way, there exist great and terrible powers. The Borg a collective organism, who inhabits the Delta quadrant have destroyed and subjugated countless worlds in the name of 'perfection'.  To encounter them is to invite death or worse than death-there is the loss of identity, the loss of freedom, the loss of privacy, and the loss of choice.  To those who become Borg, even death is irreverent, as Picard well knows-you too Katie. "

Sire Forsen quietly turned to Captain Riker and nodded his head at Q. 

"Does he always go on like this?"

          "He act's like this only when he's very worried.  And despite appearances, he's very worried right about now."

          "Quiet Human scum," Q said indignantly.  "I have the floor now."  He took a dramatically faked breath and continued.  "There are a few great powers that give the Collective pause in their relentless pursuit of perfection.  There is the Yongi-Sinhidrea, the Ciona Imperixe, you know, those little bugs with the great ambitions for your Federation.  And there is, of course the Great Machine Intelligum of the Baroni cluster.  These three are terrible powers that the Borg, in their arrogance, have tried and failed to subject or destroy.  Of the three Great Enemies, the Great Machine Intelligum is considered by the Borg to be the most valuable and thus most coveted.  But the Intelligum has resisted the Borg for close to two hundred years with no end in sight.  However the Borg did discover a weakness. "

          "V'Ger."

          "Exactly." Q appeared next to Spock in a flash. "Would you care to continue?"

          Nodding, Spock began without preamble. 

          "V'Ger was a combination of an Earth probe and advanced technology from the Intelligum. In my –exuberance, I tried to join with the entity and was rebuffed. But not before I obtained a glimpse of that made Voyager six, which was considered primitive, but still a kindred spirit, into V'Ger.  It had a wish and that was to evolve but it could not do so on its own.  It desired to join with its creator.  It needed to touch its creator, in essence to discover its purpose.  Its knowledge spanned this universe and it needed to evolve.  It literally joined with its creator, a representative of humanity.  Captain Willard Decker, a perfect mechanical copy of a Deltan navigator named Ilia and V'Ger itself joined together to create a new life form unlike anything in this galaxy."

"And that is exactly why the Borg lusts after V'Ger, or should I say the children.  The union between V'Ger and Human ape and Deltan sex fiend produced unexpected results.  The Deltan aspect required a lot of attention and the human aspect, Decker who had a previous relationship with Ilia, fit the bill perfectly.  The Union became a duality, which produced several offspring, humanoid in appearance, Intelligum by design, with the mindset both organic and mechanical.  Only two children were viable, but their energy and intelligence were remarkable, if I must say so.  Each contains the best of both worlds."

          "This of course attracted the Borg in droves and fight has lasted until now. The kids hate the Borg and will instantly destroy anything that approaches them containing Borg technology.  This is where Anika Chakotay will come in.  Thousands of cubes were destroyed which, I may add, is just one of the reasons why they haven't come to your section of space in swarms.  Kate, you and your other self hurt them more than you know."

          "Count Iblis has made the Cylons aware of the children's existence," President Adama continued to the rapped audience.  "He knew that he could not influence them directly but he does believe that through the Cylons he can place himself into a position to achieve his long term goals.  The children are intelligent but they are still just children, and you know how they can be," he added with a long sigh, looking at his invisible son standing next to him. 

          "He expects that the Cylon's mechanical nature will again strike that 'kindred' connection.  If that occurs, then it is a good possibility that the children will become vulnerable to the Borg.  The Cylons themselves will attempt to use the children to gain access to the Intelligum.  If they achieve their goals before the Borg turn on them, and everyone knows that they will, then the problems we are facing now will be nothing as compared to what will follow.  In a month their power will be such that we would not be able to comprehend much less defend ourselves against them."

          Q disappeared once more and appeared next to Captain Janeway. 

          "I gave Kate this information sometime ago in preparation for this.  Iblis has not violated our law and therefore we can't touch him without beginning a war of our own.  I give this information as Iblis has given the Cylons his information.  What you do with it will determine your fates and that of the entire galaxy.  Plan well and try to survive if you can."

          In a flash, he was gone.


	9. Epilogue

**_         EPILOGUE:_**

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**THE KATASI NEBULA:**

Storms were raging inside the bed of protostars, continuous, seemingly eternal radiation-energy storms that would last for the next million years.  The protostars, actually immature stars, would then be flung out into the dark void to meet their own fates.  Some would develop planets that they would claim as their own.  Some of the more massive ones would simply blow up and their remains would feed new, hungry newborns.  And some would simply die before they developed their full potentials. 

          One of the best things- or worse depending on what side you were on at any given moment- was that detection by the enemy, both visual and with sensor enhanced equipment, was limited.  Because of the variable gravities, a result of hundreds of proto and newborn stars, the solar winds, dust from a million sources, heat and radiation storms; the game of cat-and-mouse took on a very dangerous tone.  In such conditions, shields both navigational and defensives were useless. Cylon sensor buoys had an operations rating of less than a two hundred kilometers and many times the false positives far exceeded the detection of actual targets.  To compensate for this hundreds of thousands of buoys had been sequestered in the Katasi nebula, because here was the weakest defensive point of entry to the Katasi star system.

          And the Katasi nebula was home for the time being to two starships, one Federation and one Colonial stealth vessel, preparing the way. 

          The first was the Federation Starship _Khe Sahn_, a modified _Excelsior_-class vessel, mother ship and companion to a smaller accompanying craft.  The smaller vessel was the Colonial _Adder Taura_ named for one of the twelve colonies.  It was a destroyer, designed for speed, stealth and surveillance.  Together they had been observing the Cylon Star Command for the last month, playing hide and seek with the ever-increasing numbers of Cylon warships patrolling inside the nebula.  This was something that Captain Pat Duvalier excelled at.  She had been in special Ops for years before she became a starship Captain although her first command had almost wound up a being her last.  During the Dominion war, she had been infected with a Ciona parasite, much like the ones that infiltrated Starfleet Command so long ago. Fortunately it was extracted in time to save the ship and her crew, but the price had been high.  She never remembered what had happened, but dreams haunted her sometimes, and it took years to relieve herself of the guilt.  But that was over now and she was here on her ship avoiding Cylon Hunter-killers and the new larger Cylon destroyers, gathering information on the weapons system that had subspace-microwave the Imperial world of Romulus into an un-recognized mass. 

The Cylons, who knew that the _Khe Sahn _was inside the nebula, actively hunted her with a flotilla of warships.  Twice they had caught her and twice the _Khe Sahn_ had escaped, licking her wounds and coming back to torment the robots.  The overall size of the nebula itself helped protect the ship from its attackers and the intense radiation and energy storm helped also, reducing sensor images to a mere two hundred kilometers distance on a good day. 

          Staying inside the nebula made the ship a perfect target.  That was its purpose, allowing the second ship to travel within the nebula relatively unmolested.

          The Taura was a heavily armored observatory, gathering information on the strengths and movements of the Cylon Imperium centered around what was left of Katasi four. The aliens had strip-mined the entire planet now, leaving a reduced hulk in their wake.  The information they had was funneled to the _Khe Sahn_ who in turn passed the info to a needful Starfleet.  So far the Cylons in their obsession to find and destroy the Federation ship, were unaware of the smaller stealth ship of their traditional enemies.  However that hadn't kept the vessel from almost being obliterated a short time earlier when the Cylon super-weapon had been fired. 

          The _Taura_ was fifteen kilometers from direct contact and still her outer armor had been almost completely stripped.  Captain Greenbean still shuddered at the thought of being any closer to that death ray.  Of course with all the interference that the beam had generated they were able to observe on the actual weapons platform with a high degree of stealth.  After that they had been spotted and almost destroyed during the chase that followed.  The sight of the entire complex shocked his entire crew into silence.  After that they had been spotted and almost destroyed during the chase that followed.

          The weapons platform itself, orbiting a dead world, was a twisted wreck.  It had been constructed with the hardest materials known to both Colonial and Federation sciences but still the tremendous energies that had spewed from it had half destroyed it.  Subspace and normal radiations levels were so high after the blast that Captain Greenbean was glad that they couldn't get any closer.  The planet itself had suffered earthquakes large enough so that the tears could be clearly seen from space.  The once viable, life sustaining planet was now a stripped, barren wasteland. The Cylons didn't really need the planet as an anchoring device but it had been an effective terrorist ploy-that was the point of the exercise.  With the things happening here, the destruction of the Romulan home worlds and the overt threat of the Borg and their apparent alliance with the Cylons, civilizations anywhere near this area were panicking.  The Cardassians had made it clear that they would soon get involved as Cylon raids had occurred on their shipping lanes as well.  Even the Alpha quadrant representatives of the Dominion had sent diplomatic tendrils with intentions of improving relations to include increased security.  And from everything he'd heard about them, that was a bad sign. 

_Captain's log: Greenbean reporting:_

_The war has taken on even an uglier turn that I believed possible.  We have had reports that the Romulan Empire has fallen to the Cylons.  The reports have been few and far between as the interference of the nebula limits the efficiency of our communications. But what we have heard is enough to make us re-double our efforts.  Still, I am glad we are not alone out here. _

_          The Khe Sahn__ is still functioning and we make contact with her as we can. Neither of us have shields as the energies surrounding us makes them effectively useless.  But the good thing is that the Cylons have no shielding either, just layer upon layer of armor. So far with the excellent help of my scanner's mate Hazin and his assistant, we have avoided direct contact with Cylon patrols and the multiple sensor units they have placed within the nebula.  But it is getting harder now. They must know that a response by our people is imminent and they are preparing accordingly.  Scans indicate that they are preparing their super weapon again, recharging for a second firing.  The planet that they are using as a gravity anchor will break apart on the second firing of that we are sure. They are shunting incredible amounts of energy into the battery units still functional on the planet.  But we estimate that the accelerator will be ready for firing within a sectar. _

          _The _Khe Sahn_ has been our shield and an excellent decoy but they have been attacked and hurt once by some new type of Cylon warship.  They managed to destroy it but at the cost of nearly thirty of their crew.  I feel for the Captain and her crew.  The life of one living being is worth more than the entire Cylon population and when the time comes I will personally be there to see them all burn.  I only hope that the forces gathering will be enough end this useless war forever_. 

The political complexities swirling around this part of the galaxy were enough to drive anyone crazy. Greenbean had simply been a _Viper_ pilot, one among many, looking for Earth. 

          Well, he got his wish he mused solemnly. Now he was Captain of a Destroyer surrounded by a bunch of kids, at least from his perspective, all looking at him to pull miracles out of his pocket in case they got caught.  The fifty officers and crew were a mixture of Colonial, Mariposian, and Ligon Two men and women who volunteered for this unbelievably dangerous mission.  He was proud of them all and his laid-back style of command seemed to work well for this particular mission.  The only thing he didn't like was that his son was with him. 

          This was Hundroi's, or little Greenbean as his father liked to call him, first tour of duty. 

Greenbean could have simply rejected him in favor of someone else, but his mind overcame his heart and he relented without Hundroi ever knowing about it.  This way he could keep an eye on his oldest child.  After all Joliet and so many others were in the service and it was just as dangerous to be on the sidelines as it was to be at the front. 

          "Captain," Ensign Shanell announced quietly.  She was a former inhabitant of Ligon II whose family had migrated to Mariposa just before the Colonials had arrived. She was a dark-skinned, braided hair beauty with the ability to observe and analyze what she saw like nobody's business.  No one played pyramids or poker with her-ever-unless they had a desire to lose.  "We are within range. Shall I begin?"

         "Yes," he responded.  "Implement full stealth mode.  Maintain communications silence and passive sensors only." 

As he listened to her melodic voice he understood why his son had a crush on her. 

Unfortunately for him, she was involved with someone else.  But Hundroi kept trying and he had to give his son credit for having the ability to be shot down on a constant basis and getting back up again no matter what the odds were.

The lights dimmed and all nonessential power systems were turned off.  The spot picked for the observational run was particularly hazardous.  It was right next to a 'smart' mine field.  If the _Taura_ were detected, the mines would alert one another and together chase the offender down at warp speed if necessary.  They were very complex and hard to manufacture so there were not that many, to which both crews were forever thankful. 

"Lieutenant Hazin, status."

          "Passives are on and reflex scanners are functioning within established parameters," the scan officer answered.  Like almost half the crew he was of Mariposian extraction, the first of a new generation children whose mother was a clone of the original settlers of Mariposa and whose father was grown the old fashion way as they loved to say.  In any case, although young he also excelled at his job as the sensors and countermeasures specialist.  Greenbean had come to depend on him as the young man have gotten them out of several situations when Cylon H-K's had tried to run them down. Also his expertise save them from running into hidden mines and sensor traps. "We're showing blue light across the board. Activating-now."

With everything shut down, the Colonial ship was just one more piece of debris, another unimportant artifact in a space surrounded by artifacts that had a tendency to blow up, burn up, melt or try to vaporize something.  Passive scans or not, the _Taura_ had no intention of scanning the structures directly.  The technique that had been used was called reflective observation.  The scanners were aimed at a specific point and the surrounding energies reflected the scans to their intended points of interests.  The scan's resolution wasn't as perfect as direct examination but it kept the Taura from being easily tracked and destroyed by Cylon countermeasures.

          "We're receiving imaging now," whispered Shanell. There was no need to whisper but it was a habit that was now hard to break. "We're getting non-specific radiation spikes, but I should be able to filter the interference out momentarily." 

Greenbean responded with a quick nod. While the Ensign engaged her work, he was depending on Hazin to keep them from being caught. The Cylons were getting smarter all the time and not for the first time did he wonder how this all happened. 

          "They really work fast don't they?" It was Shanell who made the grim comment. 

          As for himself, he looked at the complex in awe.  It was clear they were preparing for a counter attack everybody knew would come.  There were normal and subspace minefields surrounding the factory and the military complex.  Twenty-five Basestars of various classes patrolled the area along with over a thousand smaller craft of various configurations moving around the big ships like nervous gnats.

          At this point, they were not his problem.  He and his people were simply there to obtain as much data as possible and live to tell about it.  The Romulans had finally shared the information they had-far too late, of course. They knew about the structure, being re-built, that had killed so many of their people but their natural paranoia had won out. 

          And look at their prize.  Annihilation.  Just like his twelve worlds.  At night he dreamed about those planets, a million fires burning.  He dreamt of plagues, fire, storm and death.  Then in his dreams the twelve worlds turned in the visages of Mariposa, of Vulcan, of Earth.  He would awaken, sweating and crying, finding his wife cradling him in their bed comforting him as if he were a child. For those few moments, he was and he hated it.  The years between fact and past meant little for him and thousands of other Colonials because they were not yet safe. The terrornauts were still there trying to beat down the door_, waiting to get in._

"How do Starbuck and Apollo do it?" he murmured oblivious to his crew watching him. 

          "Captain, I believe that is our objective," Shanell whispered. 

"Actually, one of several," The Captain replied squinting to see better even though the clarity was perfect. "They'll be ready to fire in less than a secton."

The subspace gateway cannon, as it was now being called, was surrounded by hundreds of smaller repair modules and worker-class Cylons working ceaselessly in open vacuum replacing melted components and generally repairing the damage resulting from the first firing. To Greenbean they looked like so many insectons scurrying about. But these things looked frightening in their efficiency. A voice on the comms pulled him out of his musings. 

"Engineering here."

It was his son.  "Yes?"

          "We've been doing calculations down here," he began. "The good news is that the cannon can only be positioned in a limited arc for effective firing. The nebula and individual stars block most of the targets of interest. The bad news is that Vulcan lies right at the edge of the effective range and so does Mars in the Earth system.  Neither planet would be destroyed like Romulus may have been, but they would definitely be cooked.  We're talking an eighty-five percent kill rate."

          Lords of Kobol!  There will three billion people on Mars and about the same number on Vulcan. 

          "Recheck your calculations." 

          "Yes, sir.  We will." 

          He did not mention that they had calculated this four times. Hundroi knew his father knew that he had confirmed the data several ties before calling.

          "Less than a secton." He hoped the allies would be ready. "We've done our bit. We leave now," the Captain said. "But we'll be back. I promise."

It was time to leave. 

To the Cylon Empire, the Katasi system under the control of possessed precisely four things of value. The first was the subspace canon. The second was a staging point for the main attack and conquest of the Alpha quadrant. The third was the massive space docks and factory complex now completed and working at sixty-three point five percent capacity. And the fourth was the Katasi nebula itself, which acted as a protective wall shielding their front.  Of course, the wall worked both ways, but for now it served it's purpose.

          The factory complex was now completed and the energy fields protecting the moon-sized structures would make sure that nothing interfered with its operations and output.  Raw material was plentiful and now the twelve million worker drones were completing the transported transit ways that now ensured ease of movement between the four artificial constructs.  Already, the fleet that ravaged the Romulans was put on reserve, screening the Cylon star station from possible attack from the direction of the Neutral zone.  Not that they had to worry about the Romulans; their secondary fleet huddled in the far corners of what remained of their Empire.  Both home worlds were shattered.  The main fleet consisting of seven Basestars and accompanying support craft would be sufficient for a flanking force as needed.  And they would be needed. 

Reports from everywhere all pointed to one fact. The Humans and their allies were planning a counter attack.  Where and when it would occur was disputable but all of the data suggested that it would be very soon.  Already there had been several skirmishes between Klingon and Cylon Hunter Killers and the newly designed heavy fighters called _Obliterators_.  Although designed like their _Raider_ counterparts, these were five times larger than the H-K's and maintained a crew of fifty-two officers and crew.  Each had enough firepower to take on and destroy a _New Orleans-class_ Federation ship.  There were only a few of them in production so far, not more than a hundred.  But eventually, they would be the backbone of the Cylon military as more and more worlds fell to their might. 

          If the Imperium Supreme had any doubts whatsoever that there would be even more wars in this section of the galaxy, it was dissipated by this last meeting.  The Dominion representatives had made it perfectly clear that if their territory in the Alpha quadrant were violated once more there would be war-no more talks no more negotiations.  The Supreme leader of the Cylon people was not impressed with mere threats.  The Dominion's presence in the Alpha quadrant was not nearly as strong as it had been five yahrens past.  The Vorta spokesperson had spoken very eloquently about the repercussions of invading Dominion territory.  It explained as patiently as it could that there would be no invasion as long as all of their humanoid population was properly disposed of within a specified period of time.  That proposition was firmly rejected by the Vorta creature who stated that the humanoids were under the protection of their government.  Idly, it wondered if they knew that they were next on the long list of conquests. 

For the first time to its processed memory, Lord Lucifer regretted killing Baltar.  It would have been most interesting to observe how he would have reacted to this latest victory. He was always assuming that the latest victory was the final one and Lucifer took careful note of that attitude because it had no intentions of repeating it.  That was one of his greatest failings and had put the Cylon Empire in jeopardy more than a few times. The Imperious Leader also missed the illogical, but fascinating conversations and the paranoia associated with it.  In the back of its processors, it felt that this entire approach was wrong.  Making enemies with everyone at one time usually served to make all those enemies forget their differences, and form temporary alliances to eliminate their common foe. Together the Federation, Colonials and Klingon confederation could be overcome. But what about the Dominion and the Gorn and the pitiful, but persistent Cardassians together would they not make a credible threat? 

          The short answer was yes.  But the long-term goal of total domination would be pushed back yahrens if not ten's of yahrens.  On the other side of the processor, the destruction of Romulus and Remis had the desired effect.  Almost twenty worlds were in mass panic.  Three had broken away from the Federation, making separate deals with the Cylons.  Four worlds were undergoing mindless mass evacuations, but most have simply went neutral in order to avoid the coming conflagration.  Those worlds it heaped scorn upon.         

There was only one or zero. 

          There was nothing in-between. Refugees were fleeing everywhere, further confusing the carefully prepared plans of the enemy.  That was for the best.  There were plans within plans unfolding.

          It faced the ten-story window composed of re-enforced transparent aluminum, its optical visors locked onto the gleaming black Basestar being fitted with the quantum slipstream propulsion engines.  The project had taken a little while to construct, especially considering the source of the drive unit itself.  The Imperium took some time analyzing and reconfiguring the device before committing it to their own usage.  The Borg were not to be trusted and everything had been inspected carefully. 

          "How long?"

The golden hued IL series subordinate answered the question with the machine efficiency. 

"Six weeks, Imperious Leader."

_Six weeks_ it thought.  Six weeks before the great journey begins.  Once started, then it would not matter whether the fleets won or lost in the long run.  The Children would be in their grasps and with them would come contact with the Machine Consignment Intelligum.  What would be next?

          _God-hood. _

          The Imperious Leader, followed by its entourage moved and bowed deeply to its leader. 

"By the command," it greeted.

          "Greetings Imperious Leader.  I am pleased to confirm that the beings of the Sheliak Corporate are indeed an offshoot of the Cylon race.  Much of their culture still corresponds to our own history reports before the organics on our world ceased to function. They have no objections to our presence here and we will not violate their territories as a sign of respect to our ancestral brethren."

          The Sheliak Corporate were a remnant of the original Cylons race that had fled the wars on their planet hundreds of yahrens before the cybernetic beings rebelled and slaughtered their masters.  How they wound up in the Alpha quadrant, no one was sure since the records were incomplete, lost in the passage of time.  But one common trait had remained between both species and that was their shared hatred of humanity. The Cylons of the Sheliak order considered humanity a threat and advocated war, however, the main body objected.  In the following civil war they escaped extermination by the Cylon warriors, immediate predecessors to the robots now trying to conquer the Alpha quadrant. Now hundreds of yahrens later, the Sheliak hatred of humanity had faded into simple contempt.  Now their attitude could be summed up as- 'don't bother me and we won't bother you-but stay out of our way'. The humans of the alpha quadrant never had a clue why the Sheliak held them with such disdain, other than that they considered humanity inferior.

"There are reports that the _Khe Sahn_ is in the nebula. Why has it not been destroyed?"

          "The nebula presents difficulties," Imperious Leader intoned.  "However, I have personally sent a Basestar to hunt them down.  It is only a matter of time."

          "That may be of the essence.  Scans detected an anomaly at the edge of the nebula.  It was very likely a small ship gathering data. The _Khe Sahn_ may be simply a ruse to lure us away from the true threat. T he border patrol has been made aware of the incursion and are taking the appropriate actions. Were you not aware of this?"

          High Lord Lucifer's data processors faltered for a moment. 

          "I was aware my Lord," he lied.  "But I have been pre-occupied with the great journey and did not give due consideration to the reports." 

          In truth, it had not had its internal comm net opened.  Keeping its processes to itself was becoming more and more common as it went over the details of this most audacious of plans. 

          Furthermore, it did not trust the false IL called Iblis. The creature's motivation was suspect to say the least.

          "I acknowledge your failings in this matter," the Imperium Supreme responded offering the mild reproof.  Captain Patricia Duvalier of the Federation starship _Khe Sahn_ now deserves our attention."

          There were only six weeks left before the beginning of evolution.  Baltar was correct: patience was not necessarily a virtue.

**USS ENTERPRISE-E:**

Captain Janeway watched with intense interest when she saw Commander Cain sniffed the air cautiously. She was about to ask the man what was wrong when Captain Kagth entered the conference room decked out in full regalia and the new Wildfire insignia plastered on the left side of his vest.

          "Captain Kagth, it's you," Cain laughed. "I thought I smelled you coming down the hall."

          "Cain, it is good you're an old man," Kagth retorted. "Otherwise I would be compelled to kill you." 

          The Klingon smiled. Cain was older than he was but due to the transporter accident he looked like he was in his late thirties, early forties-the perfect image of a true command warrior.  The perfect human Kagth thought.  It was good that he was Colonial and not Federation otherwise he would be ruined by now.

          Janeway simply rolled her eyes. Those two were becoming the best of friends. What that meant for the universe only God knew.

Both men slapped each one on the other's shoulder and sat down.

          Picard waited patiently for everyone to be seated before he began. The doors close and were then sealed. Two guards stationed themselves in front of the doors to make sure they were not disturbed.

          "Captains," Picard started. "Starfleet Command and the Klingon Empire Joint Operations have designated the people in this room to be the spearhead of a first strike against the heart of the Cylon base located in the Katasi star system.  We have waited because we needed time to organize the ships and materials to be an effective force against the sheer power the Cylons will throw into this fight.  Our objective is to destroy the subspace weapon at any and all costs.  We cannot allow them to repeat the brutal assault that was done against the planet Romulus.  The Romulan Empire has been effectively neutralized and it is clear we are next on their list. The _Enterprise-E _and my battle group, along with the Fifth Klingon Attack fleet will wedge an opening allowing the Wildfire group to attack and destroy the weapon. Then elements of both governments will eliminate all opposition.  Our second objective is to damage or destroy the factory complex rendering it inoperative."

There was absolute silence in the room. The possibility for success was remote. The Cylon warships were gathered and they knew that an attack was imminent. They would be prepared and thousands of lives would be lost.

Janeway stood up.    "It's not as bad as the picture we've just painted, everyone. We understand our weaknesses. Yes, many of our Captains and command staff have graduated directly from the Dominion wars and are, shall we say a touch rash in their actions.  The same thing goes for the Klingons.  They're not fully seasoned but they are aggressive that's exactly what we need in this coming war. This isn't a fight for conquest but for our very survival.  There can be no negotiations with these robots and they have made their mandate quite clear.  We must be as resolved in our hearts as they are in their programming.  Plus, we will have a little surprise in store for them.  Also you know that extermination is not their end goal.  They want to capture and control the children of V'Ger and we cannot allow that to happen.  If they achieve that goal, everything that we've worked and died for will be tossed away.  They can't get those kids, which is why the Battlestar_ Galactica _will not be in this conflict.  Neither will _Voyager_ or the Klingon vessel _Swift Hunter_.  Their mission will be to find the children before the Cylons do. The working quantum slipstream drives will be installed on all three ships in about five weeks and together they will find the children.  We have the general directions provided by Q and will find them.  But to do that, we will have to go through the territory of the Yongi-Sinhidrea.  By the way they were described by Q, he's not happy that we're going there. Evidently the make our encounters with the Borg seem like a warm-up exercise." 

          She shivered as she recalled the things Q had told her concerning these creatures. 

          "Commander Sheba will be in charge of the Battlestar _Pegasus_ which will also serve as the command center for the Wildfire strike," said Captain Picard. "Commander Cain will penetrate the Cylon command center and attempt to do as much damage as possible while we engage the enemy ships and the factory complex.

          "Excuse me, Captain Picard," Cain said. "I don't attempt things, I will do it." 

The man was smarting from the un-intentioned insult. 

          "I apologize, Commander," Picard responded rather coldly. 

          There was only one way to deal with someone like Cain. Direct with no holds barred.  His personality was too willful.  He was like a young Kirk without the restraint. He touched a padd and the information appeared on the front screen.

          "These are the details…"

President Adama sat heavily in his chair onboard the _Galactica_ while his wife rubbed his temples gently.  Again he thanked his God that he was wise enough to marry this woman.  She was his comfort in his old age and when the time finally came to rest, she would be there sharing everything with her.  Despite whatever came, he had her, and the knowledge that they would not go down without a fight.  When it came down to it, it was not much, but it gave him faith. 

President's log yahren twenty-three, day seventeen, Adama reporting: I am frightened. I fear for my people. I fear for my brethren who have given so much to help us. The stakes are so much higher now. Never did I imagine that a war, a brutal one but a simple war nevertheless would come to this. But now there's a possibility that these Cylons might ascend to godhood. What will we do then?  I have no idea in what shape we will be, but I cannot believe that this is the end.  There is more in this universe that we can imagine.  Not the Q, not the ships of lights, not Count Iblis, can shake my faith in this.  For all those others who have died in this foolish, foolish war, I can only say that we will strive to make sure that you have not died in vain. 

          _So to my children, to my posterity I can say that freedom is precious and is not to be taken lightly. It is a horrible fact, but a true one nevertheless. The blood of heroes keeps us free.  And the blood of heroes keeps us in bondage.  Until we can lay down our arms in peace we will remain in bondage.  Until that time comes we will fight, not because we want to but because we have too.  It is a horrible solution to a horrible problem but it's the best solution we have for now._

_          These memories are for the future to contemplate and argue over.  Whether we were right or wrong in our endeavor will be discussed in the future generations-if any. For me, it will not matter what conclusions are derived from this but I pray my people will have the opportunity to argue over the semantics.  We have united to destroy the Cylon menace before it destroys us and I pray with every bit of power that I possess that we will succeed._

          "President Adama," the intercom blared breaking him out of his contemplations. "Your presence is requested on the bridge."

It never ended. 

He slowly got up, embraced his wife and moved towards the lift.

FIN-for now

The next arc will be in Nov. 2003 

'THE SEARCH FOR V'GER'


End file.
